Page 65 of Billion Dollar Dispute

With everyone in position, the first guests arrive, dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns. I watch from the sidelines as they each take a glass of champagne and head straight to the photo booth, where the pictures will be in keepsake frames provided in their gift bags.

Auctions and raffles for exclusive pieces are on the agenda, but the main focus is on the celebration of the gallery, rather than a typical auction. Guests will enjoy signature cocktails, fine wines, champagne, or the bartenders are ready to create a custom drink based on guest preferences.

Servers come out with trays of gourmet canapés, delicacies, sushi, meats and cheeses. There’s no formal dinner, just constant food so people can mingle while they enjoy the art.

Happy with how it’s starting, I move to the office Oliver let me leave my belongings in and slip into a strapless royal blue dress with a chunky bluestone necklace. The dress is snug, but it’s also ten years old. I wore it once to a wedding and it’s the only elegant gown I own. Since becoming a single parent, I’ve lost weight so I’d assumed the dress would feel tighter, maybe even too small. But, to my surprise, it fits just right, and for a moment, I feel a strange mix of relief and disbelief. In the bathroom, I check my make-up and there is nothing to fix other than adding red lipstick. I’m surprised to find I still look half decent despite running around. My hair is swept into a bun, and I twirl to check every angle of me. I take a big breath and exhale, ready to go mingle.

Moving around the room, I say my hellos and stand to the side. I’m waiting for someone I know. But there is only going to be Harvey. With a sigh, I spot Oliver and quickly check in to make sure he’s happy and there’s nothing else I can do. He tells me to switch off and grabs me a wine from a passing server, insisting I drink and relax. Once he’s off, I drift through the room, trying to let myself unwind.

Oliver taps on the microphone to deliver his speech. The room falls silent, ready to soak up the host's words.

“Good evening, everyone. First off, I’d like to thank each one of you for coming tonight. You all look spectacular.

“We have a great band and DJ, so you can enjoy the incredible collection of art and dance to the music. I want to thank all the artists for giving us their pieces. You guys are creative and talented and inspire a lot of us.

“Also, if you haven’t been in the photo booth, please make sure you do. The gift bags include a special frame designed for your pictures.

“Before I let you go, let’s raise our glass to a night filled with incredible art, good food and drinks, and of course great company. Cheers and enjoy tonight.”

We all clap and women flock to him and his brothers, except I can’t see Harvey.

“I don’t get the draw for the Lincolns,” a blonde woman beside me says. I don’t know when she came, but I can’t help but reply with a smile, “You and me both.”

“Maybe it’s the shit talking they do,” she says, winking.

I stifle a giggle.

She extends a handout to me; I can’t help but notice she’s not wearing jewelry and she doesn’t have her nails done. I slip my hand into hers for a brief shake. “I’m Jem.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Karley,” she says with a warm smile.

“Are you here alone?” I ask, keeping the conversation casual.

“Yes, but I’ll be out soon,” she replies, her eyes flicking around the room.

“Are you here to buy art?” I ask further, genuinely curious about her.

“Browsing. You?” she responds, her tone light.

“I’m the event planner,” I offer a small, professional smile.

“Really?” she exclaims, her face lighting up, and it fills me with a sense of pride.

“Then you know the Lincolns.”

“She does,” Harvey’s gravelly voice interrupts from behind us. Karley twists to face him, taking a step back before heading off, but not before giving him a curious look.

He meets her gaze with a quick nod, as if this exchange is routine.

I turn to Harvey, my breath catching at the sight of him. “Your hair.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement. “Do you like it?”

The blonde highlights aren’t usually my thing, but there’s nothing about him that’s typical, so I let how I feel about looking at him spill from my lips.

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, my voice soft, not fully trusting myself to say more.

He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

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