Chapter 178: The Perfect Preparation

Chapter 178: Chapter 178: The Perfect Preparation

Audrey sat in front of three glowing monitors in the newsroom.

She had the Calloway Foundation history open on one screen. A spreadsheet of previous donor events was open on the second. The third screen held the upcoming tasting menu, a drafted presentation, and a digital notepad filled with interview points she had gathered from the foundation’s charity directors.

Ben walked past her desk and stopped. He stared at the chaotic spread of information.

"You are researching a dinner like you are covering a presidential election," Ben noted, leaning against the partition.

Audrey did not look up from her notes. "Two hundred people are coming."

"And you are feeding all of them?"

"No," Audrey said, highlighting a paragraph about clean water initiatives. "I am trying to make sure they remember why they are there before they write the checks."

Ben picked up a glossy brochure from her desk. "Billionaires don’t listen to speeches, Audrey. They drink champagne and compare watches."

"They will listen to this one," Audrey replied.

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up. Victoria’s name flashed on the screen.

"Hello, Victoria."

"Audrey, how is the presentation coming along?" Victoria asked. Her voice was warm, lacking the stiff formality Audrey usually associated with high-society matriarchs.

"I have a solid draft," Audrey said. "I am just trying to refine the transition between the third course and the foundation’s new education initiative. I want it to sound seamless, not like a sales pitch."

Victoria let out a soft laugh. "You don’t need to make it perfect, Audrey. Just make it authentic."

"That is easy for you to say," Audrey countered lightly. "You have hosted these events for years. These people know you."

"Exactly," Victoria said. "Which is why I know perfection is overrated. The donors don’t want a robot reading cue cards. They want a narrative. That is why I asked a journalist to do it."

Victoria spent the next ten minutes giving Audrey a few unscripted, personal stories about the foundation’s early days. The kind of raw, genuine details that never made it into the glossy brochures.

Audrey typed furiously, weaving the stories into her presentation. She realized Victoria was not merely Mason’s mother anymore. They were building a real, professional respect.

A notification popped up in Audrey’s inbox as she ended the call.

From: Vanessa Crosby

Subject: Final Event Schedule

Audrey opened the email.

Vanessa: I received the updated schedule from the venue. Everything is locked in. Forwarding it to you now so you have the final timeline.

Audrey clicked the attachment. The schedule looked completely normal. Cocktail hour, opening remarks, the first three courses.

She scrolled down to the signature dessert course. She checked the logistics notes at the bottom of the page.

Dessert components delivery: 2:00 PM.

Audrey frowned. She replied to the email.

Audrey: Is 2:00 PM still the confirmed delivery time? The chef mentioned the sugar work is fragile.

Vanessa: Yes. That is what the supplier confirmed. They will hold it in the venue’s climate-controlled storage until service.

Audrey read the reply. It sounded standard. She filed the email away in her dedicated event folder and went back to writing.

She did not know Vanessa had just handed her a loaded weapon. When the delivery failed to arrive at two o’clock, Vanessa would simply point to the email and say, I sent Audrey the schedule weeks ago.

The next afternoon, Audrey met Victoria and the culinary team at the venue for a final tasting.

The venue was a stunning modern art gallery with soaring glass walls and polished concrete floors. The head chef stood behind a long stainless-steel prep table, assembling the signature dessert.

It was a masterpiece. Spun sugar, dark chocolate ganache, and a delicate blackberry infused cream.

Audrey did not just taste it and nod. She pulled out her notebook.

"How long can the spun sugar sit before the humidity in the room affects the structure?" Audrey asked.

The chef looked surprised. Usually, the hosts just wanted to know if it tasted good.

"Twenty minutes max once it leaves the kitchen," the chef answered.

"And the cream?"

"It needs to be piped right before service. If it sits on the plate too long, it will bleed into the ganache."

Audrey jotted the notes down. "Okay. We need to time my introduction perfectly. I will start speaking while the servers are holding at the kitchen doors. I want the plates dropping exactly as I finish the final sentence."

Victoria stood nearby, watching with quiet pride. Audrey was not just a pretty face on stage. She was managing the room.

Vanessa stood on the other side of the prep table. She offered a perfectly helpful smile.

"Wouldn’t it be easier if the dessert components were assembled closer to service?" Vanessa suggested to the chef. "To preserve the sugar work."

The chef nodded. "Yes. That is the plan. We assemble during the third course."

Audrey looked at the schedule on her clipboard. "Then we will need to make sure everything arrives on time from the supplier. The timing is tight."

Vanessa met Audrey’s eyes. "It will."

"Audrey," Victoria called out from the center of the dining room. "Come stand by the podium. Practice the opening for me. Let’s check the acoustics."

Audrey walked over to the small stage. She took a breath. She was nervous.

She started speaking.

She did not sound like a wealthy socialite reciting a script. She sounded like a journalist telling a story. She wove Victoria’s personal anecdotes into the history of the foundation. She connected the food on the plates to the charity work they were funding.

Her voice was clear, confident, and engaging.

The room changed.

The chef stopped wiping down the prep table. The venue staff paused their work.

Victoria listened, a wide smile spreading across her face.

Audrey finished the opening monologue and lowered the microphone. The silence in the empty gallery stretched for three seconds.

"That is exactly what I wanted," Victoria said.

Audrey exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. "Really?"

"Really."

Vanessa stood near the kitchen doors. She applauded softly.

"Very impressive," Vanessa murmured.

Internally, a cold knot formed in Vanessa’s stomach. This was becoming a problem. She had expected Audrey to be stiff, awkward, or easily intimidated by the pressure.

Instead, Audrey was genuinely good.

The glass doors at the front of the gallery opened. Mason walked in. He was wearing a dark suit, looking for Audrey.

He walked over to the group just as Audrey stepped off the stage.

Victoria turned to her stepson, beaming. "Your girlfriend is going to be the face of the event."

Mason looked at Audrey. The pride in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Of course she is," Mason said.

Audrey rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Don’t encourage her."

Mason leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Vanessa watched them. The quiet, effortless affection reinforced the exact thing she was trying to destroy. Mason was not merely tolerating Audrey’s presence in his world. He was proud of her.

An hour later, Audrey and Mason left the venue.

Vanessa stayed behind, claiming she needed to review the floor plan with the venue manager.

She found a quiet corner near the catering entrance. She pulled out her phone and made a call.

The line picked up.

"Everything is still on schedule?" Vanessa asked.

"Yes," a voice answered.

Vanessa looked at the digital schedule on her tablet.

"Good," she said. She paused, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Make sure nobody changes the delivery time."

She hung up.

Later that evening, Audrey was sitting on her sofa, finalizing her notes.

An email notification popped up on her laptop.

Subject: Updated Event Schedule

Audrey opened it.

It was a revised timeline from the venue coordination team. Everything looked identical, except for one small line.

Signature Dessert Presentation: 8:45 PM.

Audrey frowned. She checked her own handwritten notes.

Her original schedule said 8:15 PM.

Before she could investigate the discrepancy, a text message arrived on her phone.

Vanessa: Just a small timing adjustment for the speeches. Everything else remains the same.

Audrey stared at the screen. She looked back at the email.

It was a thirty-minute delay. It seemed harmless. It was a standard adjustment in the chaotic world of event planning.

Audrey wasn’t sure why, but something about the change bothered her.

Not enough to call it a problem.

Just enough to make her wonder why Vanessa had changed it.