Chapter 232 - Chapter 219: Charity Dinner Final Part

"I'm already itching to spend some of my money tonight!" Ricky laughed, clapping his hands as he strolled into the grandiose hall.

Raven only smiled, the spotlight that had rested on her slipping away the moment Ricky entered, his sleazy grin pulling every eye in the room toward him.

"Aye buddy, how's the crowd looking tonight?" Ricky suddenly stopped, rolling his head toward one of the mutant guards, who immediately flinched.

The guard beside him gave a quick thumbs up, aware of how much his friend admired Ricky.

It was to the point where he had even taken this job just for the chance to meet him.

Unknowingly, this was the first time Ricky would meet a true fan. 

Yet when his eyes fell on the one person who made him feel comfortable in his own skin.

He froze.

Snap

Snap

"Is my Raven paying you to stand there like a statue or something?" Ricky asked genuinely, snapping his fingers in the man's face as the guard opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Sigh

Raven shook her head as the whispers in the venue slowly faded into silent, staring gazes. 

Even at her own table, no one spoke, they only stared at Ricky.

The reason was simple: IP skills didn't apply to pictures of him which is how most of these people knew him. 

All a photo ever showed was a smug, handsome face. 

But here, with his voice carrying through the hall, every person was struck silent.

Enthralling Voice combined with Silken Voice turned his already dangerously attractive presence into something almost ethereal. 

No matter how much vulgarity laced his words, they couldn't look away, their mouths left hanging open.

Of them all, Doris flushed the deepest, her face burning red as she stared at Ricky teasing the guards by the entrance.

"Baby, these guys are f*cking professionals!" Ricky laughed in amazement, turning to Raven, who simply rested her chin in her hands, waiting for the others to regain themselves.

"Honey, they're just shy!" Raven called back with a chuckle as Ricky scrunched his brows and gestured for one of the waiters to come over.

"M-Me?" the waiter stammered, pointing at himself as Ricky gave him a puzzled look.

"Yeah, you, get over here with that champagne." Ricky said, pointing straight at the tray of glasses as the waiter glanced to the side, then flinched as if only just realizing he was carrying it.

"Can you believe this guy?" Ricky muttered, nudging the guard, who was struggling to hold back his excitement.

Horns curved from his head, and though he stood a little taller than Ricky, he looked like a schoolboy meeting his hero for the first time.

"H-Hi." The guard finally managed to squeeze out, while his buddy face-palmed beside him as Ricky laughed at the awkward response.

"Hey, pal. Good to meet you," Ricky said, slapping the man's shoulder with an easy smile.

The guard puffed out his chest with pride, treating the brief exchange as if it were a full conversation with Ricky. 

Beside him, the other guard only shook his head with a weary sigh.

"Well, that was an experience." Ricky muttered under his breath as he strolled forward, swiping a champagne glass from a waiter who tried to bow politely.

"Ah~" Ricky sighed in relief, setting the empty glass back on the tray before turning his smile toward the evening's hostess.

"So, how was my timing?" Ricky asked, strolling over to Raven with his arms open as she rose from her seat and slid into his embrace .

"Late as always." Raven chuckled, her hand brushing against his cheek with a smile as he leaned down and met her lips with his own

The others, unable to tear their eyes from Ricky, coughed awkwardly and fumbled through half-hearted conversations until the moment passed. 

Yet the side-eyes lingered, sharp and unrelenting, as Ricky finally released his hold on Raven, lips still glistening from their encounter.

"God you're just delicious-"

"Ricky, stop~" Raven chuckled, pressing her hand over his mouth and glancing around at the eyes fixed on them.

But her hand jerked back as Ricky began licking her palm as she scoffed, fighting back a smile, and tugged him toward the table while giving a casual wave to the onlookers.

"Sorry about him, everyone. The auction will be starting soon!" Raven called out, putting everyone at ease and keeping things on schedule.

"I thought this was a dinner?" Ricky asked, sliding into the seat beside her and surveying the crowd of people who couldn't tear their eyes away from him.

"It is but this is the special event-"

"I thought I was the special event?" Ricky joked, glancing around as everyone desperately tried to hide their blatant stares behind fake conversations.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Doris cackled, shattering the silence and drawing every head at the table toward her as Raven shot her a long, pointed side-eye at the sudden outburst.

Cough

Doris coughed, realizing she was the only one laughing, but kept her smile as her eyes remained fixed on Ricky.

"Ricky, you're even better in person~" Doris giggled, sipping her champagne while her gaze stayed locked on his face.

"It's 'cause these f*cking papers are doing anything to save themselves a couple bucks." Ricky shrugged, his comment making Hearst frown as he slowly composed himself.

"You're a very hard man to get a picture of these days-" Hearst began, growing defensive at Ricky's words, but Ricky just shrugged him off.

"It ain't like I'm some elusive bird. If anyone asked for a picture, I'd give it," Ricky scoffed, waving his hand bluntly at Hearst as Anne immediately covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"These f*cking papers ain't got an ounce of originality, I mean, they're still using my photo from the trial." Ricky added, glancing around before gesturing the waiter over with the champagne glasses.

"News media is surely going downhill," Anne said with a chuckle, raising her cigarette deliberately as Hearst scowled at her.

"That's what I'm saying, I mean, even if ya don't like me I'd still pose-"

"Naked?" Doris blurted, a sleazy smile spreading across her face, catching Ricky slightly off guard.

"I'm kidding~" Doris snorted, laughing hysterically as Ricky glanced at Raven, who was keeping her smile carefully in check.

"I mean if that's what the people wanted-"

"Most of the people wanted you here on time." Hearst interrupted, glancing to the side as Ricky nodded in acknowledgment.

"Aye, my bad," Ricky shrugged, offering a half-hearted apology to the old man, who clearly wasn't satisfied with the passing comment.

"I accidentally broke my alarm clock and-"

"And you should've shown some courtesy," Hearst finished for him, wiping his mouth with his napkin as if to demonstrate exactly what manners looked like.

"I'm sorry. Ya f*cking happy now?" Ricky asked, raising an eyebrow at the old man as the waiter approached their table.

"Here you are Mr-"

"What's your name?" Ricky interrupted, noticing that none of the waiters wore nametags and deciding he didn't want to have to ask the same question over and over.

"Max, sir."

"Listen, Max, tonight you're my guy," Ricky said, pulling out a couple of hundred-dollar bills and slipping them into his front pocket.

"Whenever you see my glass empty, come over and get me a new one, alright?" Ricky gestured, patting his pocket as Max straightened instantly.

"Of course, sir!" Max exclaimed, bowing slightly before rushing to the side to await Ricky's next drink.

"So, what did I miss?" Ricky asked, leaning on the table and lifting his champagne glass, while Hearst's eyes wandered over to Raven, who had her arms casually wrapped around him.

"The entire dinner-"

"You say something?" Ricky asked, his smile twitching as he glanced at Hearst, who clearly had some sort of problem with him.

Cough

"No, I was merely wondering when the desert will be ready?" Heart asked, forcing a smile and turning to Raven who chuckled.

"Uh huh."

"At six, dear. It's chocolate mousse," Raven said with a warm smile, as Hearst nodded, his frown softening into a reluctant smile.

"Ricky, sweety, I'd like to introduce you to all my friends-"

For the next two champagne glasses, Ricky waited patiently as Raven painstakingly introduced him to everyone, making sure each greeting was met with proper respect. 

She presented each guest with their titles and fields, while Ricky watched her with an amused smirk, clearly enjoying her presentation more than the people themselves.

Until she reached the last person.

"And this is Anne-"

"This is her?" 

Of all the introductions, the second time Raven spoke Anne's name, it was the only one Ricky actually recognized.

The reason was simple: during her nightly routine, Raven often recounted the latest gossip to Ricky and Anne was always the one in her stories who always took her side.

"Holy sh*t, I know you!" Ricky exclaimed, bluntly pointing toward Anne, who smiled warmly in response.

"I hope only good things-"

"Good things? All I ever hear is my Raven compliment the ever-living sh*t out of you," Ricky remarked, grinning ear to ear as he finally met the woman who clearly made Raven's life so much easier.

"Ricky~" Raven said, a touch embarrassed, patting his shoulder as if to make him stop.

"What? I gotta show her some flowers," Ricky said, gesturing toward the woman he assumed was Raven's best friend, based on the way she had always spoken about her.

"Ouch, my feelings~" Doris teased, looking directly at Ricky as a few others laughed.

"Yes, Ricky, what about us?" Gertrude asked with a smile, fanning herself as her eyes lingered on him.

"Oh c'mon, it ain't like that, I just meant-"

"Don't say another word, Ricky. It's a trap," Harry whispered quickly, leaning forward with a smile, as if to suggest he was joking.

"Ha!" Ricky laughed, leaning back in his chair while Gertrude rolled her eyes at the comment.

"Ain't you the guy that almost died?" Ricky asked, pointing at Harry, who grinned widely at being recognized.

In an alternate timeline, Harry would have succumbed to Pneumonia, his life snatched away in 1931 by a treatable condition.

But through a combination of impeccable timing, sheer luck, and what could only be called a miracle, he managed to survive.

Cough

However, before he could continue, Harry flinched as Gertrude pinched his thigh, signaling him to stop.

"Y-Yes," he coughed dryly, ducking his head at Gertrude's glare, as if she were putting him firmly back in his place.

"So, Ricky, I know it's late, but I wanted to congratulate you on your trial," Katharine said with a warm smile, her eyes fixed on the man she genuinely believed was making a real difference.

"Yes, it was simply marvelous reading about your journey against a system designed to keep certain people down." Jane said, subtly offering her own metaphorical flowers to Ricky, who returned her sincerity with a warm smile.

"But was the hiring of a Negro lawyer really necessary?" Waldorf asked, glancing down at his cigarette with a bitter expression before lifting his gaze back to Ricky.

"Honestly, I was supposed to go with an old friend of my pops, but Marshall one day just snuck into my house-"

"Typical." Daniel muttered, his expression souring as he poked at his food, while Ricky shot him a sidelong glance.

"Yeah, but he just showed up with balls of steel, and I was like, 'Why not?'" Ricky shrugged, smiling as he recalled the sheer audacity it took to walk into Lucky's house with nothing but a briefcase.

"Is that your way of separating the good stock from the lesser ones?" Waldorf asked curiously, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray.

"Like Segregation and sh*t like that?"

Although it wasn't formally enshrined in law the way it was in the Jim Crow South, segregation in 1936 was still rampant. 

In the Deep South, it announced itself with signs above water fountains and bus seats, backed by both law and the threat of mob violence which usually resulted in hangings.

In New York, the barriers were way quieter and almost always hidden beneath the excuses of 'exclusive memberships' and strict dress codes.

But even still, the city liked to pride itself on this 'cosmopolitan tolerance', but the reality was far uglier.

Even the most successful African Americans, be it doctors, lawyers, and entertainers who filled Ricky's Cotton Club with white patrons nightly, could not expect an invitation to dine beside the Astors or Morgans.

It was why there wasn't a single guest of darker complexion in the Waldorf's ballroom. 

Harlem might have been only a cab ride away, but its residents were all but barred from crossing the velvet threshold.

Except as servants.

And those who did work inside the Waldorf's walls, polishing silver or carrying trunks, were confined to service corridors and basement quarters, invisible to the general public, as if even their presence were something to be ashamed of.

'Yes 'Like Segregation and sh*t like that'."

"I don't really f*cking care, if I'm being honest," Ricky shrugged, leaning back as if the civil rights movement itself weren't already accelerating because of his intervention.

"It appears that young negress has already ensnared him." John remarked with a laugh, joined by Daniel, though they were the only ones actually laughing.

"Don't." Raven whispered, grabbing Ricky's hand before he could respond, clearly aware they were talking about Stephanie.

"What do you think of Marshall's latest case?" Waldorf pressed, steering the conversation toward the very reason he had come to the dinner.

Sigh

A few at the table sighed, mostly the women, while the men fixed serious expressions on Ricky, aware that his answer could affect them as well.

"Dear-"

"Quiet," Waldorf hushed Nancy, turning his attention back to Ricky, who tapped the table.

"Lemme guess, he's suing you." Ricky said with a smile, watching as Waldorf visibly frowned at the remark that summed up everything happening to him.

"As a matter of fact, he is." 

In the spring of 1936, the Waldorf-Astoria refused accommodations to Dr. Charles A. Brooks, a Black physician from Washington D.C., who had been invited to attend a medical conference hosted in New York. 

Despite holding a confirmed reservation made through a white colleague, Brooks was turned away at the front desk once staff realized his race. 

Instead, he was directed to the colored boarding houses in Harlem.

This denial caused an uproar in Black newspapers like the Amsterdam News and caught the attention of Thrugood Marshall who was now a budding figure within the civil law community.

"Your hotel entered into a binding contract by confirming Brooks' reservation, and its refusal to honor it constitutes a breach based solely on race!" Jane exclaimed, leaning forward to defend the poor man as Waldorf sneered at the activist Raven had purposely invited.

"Federal law has been stripped of power after the Civil Rights Cases of 1883-"

"But he isn't arguing that, is he?" Anne asked simply, covering her mouth as Waldorf's expression darkened.

"For context, Ricky, Marshall has pressed that New York State's common-law traditions and emerging civil rights statutes oblige businesses serving the public to treat all patrons fairly." Anne explained, trying to give him a clear understanding of why this was even happening.

BAM

"As a private establishment, the hotel has the right to refuse service at its discretion!" Waldorf yelled, pounding his fist against the table, his glare full of fury.

"I am merely telling Ricky what is happening-" Anne began, her excuse as poor as Waldorf's manners which was now on full display.

"That is bullsh*t, and you know it! You are clearly taking that Negro's side!" Waldorf yelled hatefully, seething to his very core at this woman blatantly filling Ricky's head with the wrong message.

"I think Waldorf is right since there was no explicit New York statute requiring hotels to accept Black guests." John chimed in, coming to Waldorf's defense.

"I still don't understand, didn't the court throw the claims out-" Hearst asked, raising an eyebrow, having literally printed the paper that had announced that glaring fact.

"That f*cking jazz-playing Negro wasn't targeting that." Waldorf seethed, rubbing his face at the unbelievable truth Ricky had just realized.

"He was going after your money!" Ricky laughed, clutching his stomach as Waldorf visibly began to shake, the table falling silent as everyone suddenly understood.

The constitutional claims, framed to favor the hotel's property rights, were actually a diversion.

To put it simply, they were meant to occupy Waldorf's manpower, securing a dismissal, while Marshall was quietly pursuing damages all along.

That was why Waldorf had come to this dinner.

He had realized that no matter how much he fought in court or dragged out the case, he had still breached the contract with Dr. Charles A. Brooks.

In a few days, the courts would have no choice but to side with Marshall.

This would herald an unprecedented victory and serve as proof that the Waldorf, and establishments like it, could at last be held financially accountable.

"He's got you by the balls~" Ricky wheezed, slapping his knees as Raven nudged his shoulder, subtly signaling him to stop.

"Yes, which is why I'm here today." Waldorf said, calming himself, trying to rein in his anger that grew with every chuckle from the man before him.

"Oh man, don't tell me you want me to do something about it!" Ricky said, holding up his empty glass just as Max quickly appeared at his side to replace it with a fresh one.

"You have to understand, this would send a very bad message to the world," Waldorf continued, trying to frame it differently than simply not wanting to lose to Marshall of all people.

"We employ thousands of people, all of us, and if this Negro gets what he wants, I'm afraid other Negroes will think they are owed the same," Waldorf sighed, shaking his head as if it were a tragedy.

"Uh huh," Ricky mused, smiling ear to ear since he hadn't heard about Marshall in a while, and it was refreshing to catch up on him.

"Yes and after your trial, you play a part in this problem since-"

"Since I won," Ricky said, wiping his mouth and finally halting his laughter while being handed another glass of champagne.

"Listen, I can't do it." Ricky continued, taking a sip while bluntly denying Waldorf fo the favor.

"Can't or won't?" Waldorf demanded, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Ricky, clearly unprepared for an outright refusal.

"It's not that simple-" Raven began, leaning forward, only for Ricky to shrug and cut her off.

"No, it's pretty simple, Marshall's my guy." Ricky said firmly, a sly smile tugging at his lips. 

"I'm not gonna just go to him and tell him to drop it for no good reason-"

"If you did, I would surely appreciate it and would even consider you my friend." Waldorf said, leaning back slightly, his tone dripping with condescension, as if he were doing Ricky a favor.

"Because everyone's dying to be your friend," Jane said, rolling her eyes and letting her words drip with sarcasm.

"Yes, since unlike you, my family name means something," Waldorf shot back, pivoting to face Jane, his jaw tight and eyes flashing with indignation.

"Could this not have been saved for later?" Gertrude asked gently, tilting her head slightly as she fixed Waldorf with a bored stare that contrasted sharply with his rising temper.

"No, it cannot-"

"Really? Because I think it can," Doris chuckled, winking at Ricky, who raised his glass in acknowledgment while also picking up on her subtle gestures.

"Waldorf, I think we can arrange a time to get together and discuss this-" Raven began, leaning slightly forward in an attempt to mediate, but the man wasn't having it.

"No, my lawyers tell me that in three days the ruling will be made." Waldorf interrupted sharply, sitting back with a rigid posture.

"I'm willing to pay whatever service price you and your goons charge, give me a number and-"

"Buddy, I already told you, no," Ricky interrupted, his smile twitching at the way Waldorf referred to his men.

"I just met you, and you're already asking me for favors? C'mon, man." Ricky laughed, leaning back slightly and shrugging, trying to play it off for Raven, who was gripping his hand tightly.

"But you and your greasers do this sort of thing for money, right?" Waldorf asked, his tone casual but oblivious to the sting of his words.

"Please, don't." Raven whispered again, her eyes narrowing as she watched Ricky rub his face, clearly irritated by the term all mobsters loathed.

Although the term 'greasers' would later become associated with a subculture in the 1950s and 1960s.

At the time it was no different than a slur, spat at Italian immigrants much like 'wop' or 'dago', which was used to remind them of their supposed place in the social order.

"Don't call my guys that, capish?" Ricky warned, raising his eyes to Waldorf, who took a slow drag of his cigarette, unbothered.

"It's like if I came here and immediately started calling you a posh asshole with your monocle shoved so far up your ass that you're sitting up straight." Ricky added sharply, tilting his glass to his lips with a mocking smirk.

The table was almost immediately filled with an awkward, stifling silence. 

The only reason he had agreed to attend this so-called 'mutant dinner' was his belief that he and Ricky could see eye to eye. 

But now, Ricky seemed to widen the chasm between them, leaving Waldorf simmering in a fury he could neither disguise nor control.

"Well, unlike Waldorf here, I'm actually glad to finally meet the man himself in the flesh." John said at last, lifting his glass toward Ricky who smiled at the clear lie.

"Oh yeah?" Ricky asked, leaning casually on the table with a wide grin.

"Of course. My father never had anything but praise for you," John said, the words still clanging in Ricky's mind as obvious lies.

However, it wasn't the lie that started to piss him off, it was John's laugh.

Edged just enough to twist the words into mockery for anyone who knew how to listen.

Because to everyone else at the table, excluding Ricky, it sounded like a genuine compliment.

"Your father, John D. Rockefeller, said something nice about me?" Ricky chuckled, the sound spreading around the table until everyone but a select few joined in with uneasy laughter.

"Nothing but praise," John said politely, tipping his glass toward the man he somehow held such animosity for.

"What'd he say?" Ricky asked, tilting his head with a feigned curiosity, as if eager to hear what a man like that could possibly have said about him.

"That you had a raw tenacity that would one day grow into a fine man," John lied outright, his delivery so convincing that Raven even placed a hand over her heart.

"Wow, he must've really admired me, huh?" Ricky said, rubbing his mouth as he tilted his head again at John, who only swallowed the truth and forced a smile.

"From my understanding, yes." 

Ricky just sat there with that same forced smile he used to wear back in high school, only this felt worse than dealing with the Skull and Bones crowd. 

Back then, the sneers and comments were petty, almost childish in how transparent they were. 

But here, among adults wrapped in their polished manners and posh behavior, the game felt sharper.

It was to the point where Ricky was convinced that, without his lie detection skill, he would have no way of telling the difference between truth and lie in John's words.

"My condolences for your loss, John. I know how close you were with your father," Nancy chimed in, steering the conversation elsewhere as John slowly nodded.

"Yes, well, it sometimes pains me to think about him," John said with a smile, lowering his gaze to the table while Ricky raised an eyebrow at yet another lie.

"I miss all our long talks, and the way he just understood me," John said, his false words ringing out as Abby even reached over to rub his shoulder in sympathy.

"Oh John, you're making me think about my late father as well." Gertrude laughed, dabbing at the corners of her eyes and yet, Ricky only lifted his eyebrow again, catching another lie.

"A shame how the ones you love most simply slip away with the sands of time," Waldorf lamented, shaking his head, though his gaze lingered on Ricky.

"If you ask me, my father didn't fall over fast enough," Doris laughed, glancing at Ricky to see if he would join in.

But Ricky only sat there with that bitter taste in his mouth, realizing none of these people truly cared about their families. 

Their laughter sounded hollow, like knives clinking against fine china, all of them so comfortable mocking the dead.

Even he could understand what it meant to hate a parent, hell, he hated his parents to his very core in his last life.

But all Ricky could think about was Lucky. 

No matter how much the old man demanded, how hard he pushed, or how ruthless he could be, Ricky couldn't even imagine letting a thought like that cross his mind.

"Inappropriate." Anne scoffed, slamming her glass down on the table as she shot Doris a hateful glare.

"What?"

"Have some respect for the person who has given you a life most would kill themselves for," Anne scowled, carefully enunciating each word, seeming to be the first crack of truth in this swarm of lies.

"Ah yes, who could forget all the fond memories of him f*cking the negro maids." Doris laughed, covering her mouth, purposely making Anne scowl.

"Thank you for coming, Ricky~" Raven whispered, placing a hand on his thigh just as Doris tried to sneak another look at him to see if he was watching her performance.

Ricky's bitter taste vanished instantly as a bulge formed in his pants at the way she said his name.

"Oh yeah?" Ricky asked, his anger fading completely as he draped an arm around Raven's chair, pulling it closer.

"How are you going to thank me?" Ricky whispered, watching Raven tug on his tie until his ear was right next to hers.

Then, as Doris continued riling Anne up, she caught something that unsettled her more than any insult. 

Raven. 

The woman had barely lifted her voice, but each syllable seemed to melt straight into Ricky's ear, as though she were speaking a language only he understood. 

Doris could even see it from the way his posture shifted, the way his eyes, once casually flicking across the table, no longer even acknowledged her existence.

And that was the truth of it. 

The more Raven leaned in, her breath feathering against him as she spun those lustful words, the less Ricky cared about the presence of anyone else, including her. 

Doris could have been dressed in diamonds, dripping with her family's wealth and every ounce of her practiced beauty shining, but beside Raven she looked like a painting dulled by age.

This action had two meanings. 

The first was simple enough, she wanted to calm Ricky down. 

In his line of work, threats, even subtle ones, weren't just words to be ignored; they were sparks that demanded to be stamped out.

He didn't respond with clever retorts or polite restraint like the rest of them; he crushed them, decisively, without hesitation. 

But here, in these circles, it was different. 

These jabs weren't declarations of war, they were just little performances that didn't mean anything, thinly veiled contests of wit tossed about like the champagne Ricky downed and discarded.

Even Waldorf's anger was just for show since he wasn't nearly as mad as he made himself out to be.

However, the second meaning was far subtler, enough that Raven side-eyed Doris to make sure she wouldn't be confused. 

It was as if she were silently telling her that she meant nothing to Ricky: that her wealth, her beauty, even her carefully honed charm could not compete with the hold Raven had over him.

"And if you're good, you get it all~" Raven whispered the last part aloud, watching Ricky bite his lip.

"Anyth-"

"Anything~" Raven whispered again, practically giving him permission for everything which made Ricky completely forget that he was angry in the first place.

"Can we just get outta here-" Ricky said, fully aware of what Raven was doing, but not annoyed in the least, in fact, he preferred to be calmed down this way.

"When the dinner's over." Raven said simply, patting his thigh before turning back to the table, which had been engaged in a tentative conversation.

"And Doris, we are all friends here, please stop teasing Anne." Raven added, though her eyes curved into mischievous crescent moons.

Raven watched Doris pause her vicious, cutting words toward Anne, biting her lip as she leaned back in her chair. 

There was an almost bitter edge to her expression, a quiet fury at realizing she wasn't going to get what she wanted today. 

And when Anne saw that look, she understood exactly what was coming next.

"Doris-"

"Ricky, what do you think about Negro's?" Doris asked, tracing a nail across the tablecloth as Raven's brow twitched.

"They piss me off just like everyone else, equally f*cking annoying." Ricky joked, letting out a laugh that drew a few uneasy chuckles from Harry and some of the women.

"What about you, Hearst? What do you think?" Doris asked, turning her eyes to him. Hearst raised an eyebrow.

"Me?" Hearst asked, genuinely surprised that Doris was actually asking for his opinion.

"Doris!" Anne whispered sharply, watching the blonde chuckle as she leaned on the table, subtly throwing a little tantrum.

"Hearst, honey, she's just messing with you-" Raven began, but her smile only seemed to provoke Doris further.

"I'm really not," Doris said deliberately, interrupting Raven with a hateful chuckle. 

"I genuinely want to understand more about this topic. And while we've heard Waldorf speak, I think we need a media man to really get a full picture." Doris spoke with purpose, deliberately drawing Hearst in, his pride visibly rippling across his features.

"Well, it's my job to report the truth, after all." Hearst said, rubbing his mustache with a smile that clearly relished the subtle compliments.

"And John, honey, isn't your family a prominent supporter of Booker T. Washington's 'industrial education' model?" Doris asked, resting her head on her hand as Abby placed a reassuring hand on her husband's shoulder.

"She-

"I know," John said simply, turning to Abby and easing her, as if they all, Ricky included, understood exactly what she was doing.

"But the Rockefellers understand the bare truth," Waldorf said, latching onto the point and adjusting himself since this was the perfect opportunity to pick up where they had left off.

"Yes, it's why that dirty W.E.B. Du Bois method needed to be squashed." Hearst chimed in, coming to John's defense as Doris slowly leaned back at her work being done.

"So, as long as our country produces docile, non-threatening workers-" Kathrine began, smiling as if she couldn't believe how absurd the idea was.

"Why must you always argue?" Caroline asked genuinely, her eyes flicking toward Kathrine with a frown.

"Because some of us aren't born with diamond spoons-"

"But spoons nonetheless." Abby interrupted, raising an eyebrow at Kathrine who still held a sizable wealth as she scoffed.

"It's how you use them, not how you use them to eat your caviar." Rose chimed in, instantly siding with Kathrine.

"Is it wrong to use your privilege?" Daniel asked, putting an arm around his wife as Caroline crossed her arms and squinted her features.

"I'm sorry, what do you use your privilege for, other than making yourself even richer?" Jane asked, crossing her arms and squinting, while Raven smiled at Doris, who calmly sipped her drink.

"Privilege is given to those who know how to properly use it." Hearst said, his voice smooth and confident, as if stating an undeniable truth.

"Yes, a Negro who can barely read cannot run a company." Waldorf added, nodding with a self-satisfied smirk, clearly reveling in the absurd superiority he believed he possessed.

"It is biological, God made the Negro stupid and fit, while whites were given the brains to guide humanity," Hearst declared, leaning back in his chair as if lecturing a class of fools, his words dripping with condescension.

"That's why I actually agree with what Ricky did on trial," Hearst said, gesturing toward Ricky with a broad smile.

"A Black mutant and a white mutant are just not cut from the same cloth. We should've understood this better, rather than painting them in the same ugly light." Hearst continued, his voice oozing self-satisfaction.

"Look at Raven here, no way should we have ever pinned her like we did those Negro's." Hearst added, raising his glass toward her as Raven simply nodded, acknowledging the toast with a controlled demeanor.

"Thank you, Hearst," Raven said, taking it as a compliment as Ricky realized she wasn't even lying, yet she seemed completely unbothered.

"Really?" Ricky asked, surprised she didn't misinterpret it, literally blue as she was, but Raven just shrugged.

"It's about understanding perception, Ricky. For Hearst to say that, he must have done a lot of internal thinking," Raven said carefully, watching as everyone nodded in agreement, except Doris, who remained unconvinced.

"That is why this dinner is so marvelous, Raven-" Anne began, trying her hardest to steer the conversation back on track, but Doris wouldn't be deterred.

"So it's not about mutants, it's only black and white?" Kathrine asked Hearst, watching him pause for a moment before nodding.

"Yes." 

"Exactly, Irish, Italian, Jews, they're all the same." Doris said with a smile, glancing at Kathrine, who was a little shocked but nodded nonetheless.

"Exactly-"

"Well~" Heart said, leaning back in his chair as his thumbs went under his overall straps.

"They're getting there." Hearst plainly said, nodding to Ricky who only tilted his head since it wasn't a lie but a strange way to look at it.

"Thank you?" Ricky laughed, trying to be a good sport after his compliment to Raven.

"You're welcome, since it is a real marvel as to how far you dago's have come," Heart genuinely said, smiling ear to ear as if congratulating Ricky, who raised his empty glass.

"Thanks." Ricky said dryly, trying to see the bright side until he remembered this was like the rich version of Bug Eyes.

Then, suddenly, Ricky sort of understood what Raven meant about perception.

It was like putting himself in Bumpy's shoes, feeling the sting of degradation, but vastly different from his situation now. 

Here, nothing was direct; the barbs were hidden beneath polite smiles and carefully measured words.

Honestly, they weren't insulting him outright, and slowly he began to see what Raven had been talking about. 

Coupled with the fact that he didn't want to ruin her dinner, Ricky just let it go.

'It could be worse-'

Until it suddenly got worse.

"But you must admit, at a certain point, Italians were a problem." John said, gesturing toward Ricky, who had just received his freshly poured glass of champagne.

"Well, it's f*cking hard to start over from Silicy-" Ricky shot back immediately, defensive at the accusation since it wasn't easy to start over with nothing but a suitcase.

"But you're American, right?" John asked, laughing, as if claiming to be from somewhere else was an insult.

"Yeah, I am," Ricky said, raising his gaze to John, who looked around at the others at the table.

"So you're one of us," John shrugged, spreading his arms toward everyone else.

"Ricky," Raven said, though this time her words seemed to lose some of their insistence, her meaning dulled as she side-eyed Doris.

As if there was a reason.

"Sure, why not," Ricky muttered, his smile completely gone, replaced by a simple stare aimed directly at John.

"I knew it!" John cackled to himself, as if confirming the glaring fact, and the others joined in. 

It was as if, despite Ricky being dressed like a mobster, it reassured these very influential people that he truly was one of them.

"Yes, welcome to the party." Anne sighed, lifting her glass of champagne and downing it in one go.

"Good to be here-" Ricky said, gnashing his teeth, eyes staring blankly at John as Raven didn't try to stop him this time.

"It's why we should tread lightly around the Negro topic." John interjected, a hint of jealousy seeping into his tone as he cut Ricky off once again.

"Since, after all, Italian's were the white man's Negro's at one point, like with mutants now, we-"

"Excuse me?" Ricky suddenly said, leaning back in his chair, giving John a sharp, weird smile.

"He said Italians are the white man's Negroes-" Doris interjected, only to shut her lips when Ricky raised a hand to silence her.

"Shut the f*ck up you tiring b*tch." Ricky spat hatefully at Doris, watching her visibly flinch.

His eyes glowed green as they locked on her, knowing full well this was all her fault and he was no longer patient enough to mince his words.

"And lemme tell you something," Ricky chuckled dryly, turning his gaze back to John, who simply sat with a content smile.

"When America opened the floodgates and let all us Italian's in, what do you think they were doing it for, huh?" Ricky asked, watching John tilt his head like he was listening to a child explain politics.

"To save us from poverty?" Ricky asked with a bitter chuckle, his eyes scanning the table as if any of them might actually have the answer.

"No, they did it cause they needed us." Ricky said, thumping his chest as if to express this clear fact.

"They needed us to build their f*cking cities, pick up their trash, and make'em richer," Ricky said, his hands slicing through the air like he was carving the truth out of it.

However, instead of stopping Ricky, Raven just watched, saying nothing, her expression unreadable as if she'd expected this all along.

"You Carnegies and Rockefeller's needed worker bee's and there we were." Ricky added, voice thick with resentment, like the words had been waiting years to come out.

"But y'know what? Some of us didn't want to just swarm around your f*cking hive and lose who we were," Ricky chuckled, rubbing his frown into a smile as he leaned forward.

"We wanted to stay Italian and preserve tings that meant something to us; honor, family, and f*cking loyalty." Ricky said, the words landing heavy, as if none of them even understood what that meant.

"But some of us, like my pops, wanted a piece of the action," Ricky said, and as he did, his tone softened, filled with genuine respect that none of them even held for their own fathers.

"Now he wasn't educated like all of you, but he had the balls to take what he wanted," Ricky said, his voice steady and unapologetic, laughing in their faces as they shifted uncomfortably in their seats until he was finished.

"And don't get it twisted, you're all crooks and killers too," Ricky said, gesturing at all of them, not just John.

"But hey, you run a business, right?" Ricky asked, gesturing towards John, who could only swallow his thoughts in the face of the head of the Luciano family.

"It's the American way, right?" Ricky asked again, tilting his head while referring back to his earlier words.

"Taking advantage of others to prop yourself up?" Ricky laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat.

"We don't sound so different now, do we?" Ricky said, purposely flaring his eyes, daring them to say anything except what he wanted.

"I guess not," John simply said, holding his glass tightly as Raven grabbed Ricky's arm, as if to hold him back from lunging at them.

"Ricky-" Raven said, showing she was at least making an effort, though she knew it wouldn't be enough.

"No, lemme talk," Ricky said, unable to stop his momentum since he had John exactly where he wanted him.

The table fell deathly silent, every eye fixed on John and Ricky as they watched the mobster about to make his position among them unmistakably clear.

No more subtle acknowledgments, no more half-hidden lies, and no more playing their games.

From now on, Ricky would be the one in complete control of the conversation.

"Did you even see what your father was like at the end of his rope?" Ricky genuinely asked, looking at John, who remained deathly quiet.

"I did." John merely said, holding his neutral expression with all his willpower as Ricky smiled warmly.

"Y'know, I came across the guy before I left for the trial, hell, it's how I met Rhino." Ricky gestured, looking toward Raven as if she'd know who that was.

"But you wanna know the sh*tty part about the state your pops was in? About what happened to him?" Ricky asked, flaring his eyes, daring anyone to interrupt or even breathe out of turn.

By the time the conversation reached this point, it was clear to everyone that he would be the one doing all the talking.

"The sh*tty part about your dad's death was that he probably died surrounded by people he paid." Ricky chuckled, watching John visibly duck his head, as if he had completely guessed right.

"Although we don't sound too different, John, we are," Ricky said, spreading his hands to emphasize the clear line that separated him from the others.

"You ain't a killer."

"I mean, your businesses, they kill, steal, and rob others blind, just like mine." Ricky said, his eyes narrowing into sharp crescent moons as they locked slowly onto John.

"But you ain't got the balls to pull the trigger yourself." Ricky scoffed, his eyes scanning the men who wouldn't even get their hands dirty let alone actually hold a gun.

"None of you do." Ricky gestured, slashing his hand across the table, as if wiping away everyone but a rare few.

"But you sit there on your f*cking pedestal and you look down on them, look down on people like me." Ricky spat the words, his voice thick with contempt as his gaze swept across the room, sizing up those who, in his eyes, were beneath him.

"So, lemme tell you something."

"If my pops, god bless him, couldn't even f*cking speak," Ricky said, his voice low and steady as he described the exact state John's own father had been reduced to.

"If he was a vegetable, to the point where he'd just stare off into space, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth, I'd be there." Ricky said suddenly, his voice cutting through the table. 

Because at this monet, he spoke the one thing that truly set them apart, more than anything else before.

"I'd be there to wipe his mouth, change his goddamn underwear, and make damn sure no motherf*cking rando is taking care of the man who gave everything for me to succeed." Ricky seethed, his eyes burning with a mix of loyalty and rage for even being compared to John in such a way.

"Because say what you will about me; I steal, I kill, and I pillage just about anyone who even stands in my way." Ricky's voice carried across the table, actually making it clear he was worse than most of them.

"But I would never, NEVER, want Lucky to die the way your pops did." Ricky laughed bitterly, eyes locking onto John's with a hateful edge, watching as the man struggled to hold his tongue.

"And that's why the Lucianos are different from your Rockefellers." Ricky finished, leaning back in his chair as he slowly placed his hands on the table, flashing the gold ring on his pinky.

"So, here's the thing." Ricky shifted in his seat, shedding the guise of a mere guest and stepping fully into his role as head of the Luciano family.

"You wanna be my friend? Fine." Ricky laughed, glancing sideways with a smirk that laid bare exactly where he placed them in the food chain.

"But don't get it twisted, we are not equals."

"I don't know what you f*cking said to my Raven to get a seat at this table, but if I ever find out that your nose ain't the least bit brown when talking to her-" Ricky cut himself off, raising his hand to flash Profaci's ring as he pointed directly at John, his eyes blazing with everything he wanted to say but couldn't fully voice.

"I'm gonna f*cking find you."

"And just like your father before you, I will blackmail the ever-living sh*t outta you." Ricky chuckled darkly, watching John visibly tremble at the rumor that had haunted his family for years.

John couldn't even hide the subtle trembling in his frame as Ricky slowly let his smile widen, savoring the moment.

"My father let you off with a-"

"Warning?" Ricky laughed, his voice dripping with mockery as he finished his sentence. 

He casually rolled the golden champagne within his glass, eyes never leaving the stunned faces around the table.

"I'm sure that's what he told you," Ricky muttered, side-eyeing John who couldn't believe what he was hearing.

At the time, the conditions Rockefeller had ended up giving Ricky seemed almost too good to be true. 

Because they were.

But the family would have had no way of knowing this glaring truth. 

That's why the rumor spread through the Rockefeller clan, that Ricky had actually blackmailed the patriarch himself.

However, John couldn't believe it. 

He knew his father better than anyone, and he had never known that man to be anything other than cruel.

The idea that Ricky could've blackmailed the patriarch seemed almost impossible, even to the people at this table.

Yet here he was, confirming the very rumor that had always sounded like a wild conspiracy theory.

"In fact, it's funny cause you're wearing the same sh*t he wore on our first meeting." Ricky chuckled, his eyes glowing as he saw those familiar artifacts that John so desperately tucked under his shirt.

"How scared are you right now, John?" Ricky wondered aloud, tilting his head at the man struggling to maintain his composure.

"You think those trinkets are gonna help you? They won't." Ricky sneered, letting the words hang heavy in the air.

"Your father tried to pull the same sh*t on me five years ago." icky laughed, the mockery sharp and unapologetic as he faced John, fully aware there was nothing the man could do.

"But when he realized those little knick knacks wouldn't save him, I saw the fear cloud his eyes like they're doing to you right now." Ricky tapped his temple, fully aware he was lying but knowing John wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"I bet-ha~" Ricky laughed, enjoying the moment as John quickly turned his gaze away.

"I bet you don't even believe me."

"Hell, I wouldn't since if someone told me that Lucky was shaking in place I'd laugh in their faces." Ricky said with a shrug, placing himself in John's shoes for a moment, if only to mock the disbelief he knew was still brewing there.

"Johnny boy, he didn't let me walk away." Ricky suddenly revealed, his tone dropping into something quieter as he leaned forward across the table.

John instinctively leaned back, his posture stiff, as if recoiling from a truth too sharp to accept.

His eyes firefly searched Ricky's face for just any sign of a bluff, but all he found was certainty carved into every line of the mobster's grin.

"What do you think the money was for?" Ricky's smile crept wider, visibly stretching as the fear bloomed behind John's shaky eyes, feeding off of it like some sort of predator savoring the first drop of blood.

"No-"

"That's right, John. It was a payment." Ricky cut in, confirming every unspoken fear with a single, crushing sentence.

"I blackmailed John D. Rockefeller at the ripe old age of sixteen," Ricky said, leaning back with a smug ease, letting the weight of that impossible truth hang in the air.

"Listen, me and FDR are not in competition, this city is mine-"

"Are you not concerned about FDR's-"

"Do I look like I'm scared of that regular-ass guy?" Ricky asked genuinely, gesturing to himself with an incredulous look before shifting his eyes toward Hearst.

"I don't care that on paper he's the leader of this country or even how much sh*t you all own here, all of this is mine." Ricky gestured broadly, making it clear the entire city was in his palm.

"Whatever you all heard about me, be it from the paper or rumors, doesn't even scratch the surface of what I'm capable of." Ricky revealed, his tone completely calm rather than threatening.

"So listen, if you all want the single greatest piece of advice I could give you all, it's this-"

Ahem

"There is nothing in this country that can stop me from getting what I want." Ricky said, forcing the faintest smile he could muster.

"And there is no amount of paper with the president's face on it that carries more weight than this," Ricky said, holding up a card with his signature as the eyes around the table widened.

"You've heard about it, right?" Ricky asked, watching as they slowly grasped the power that single card held in this city.

"Of course you have, it's your business to know sh*t like this."

"Anne, here ya go." Ricky said, sliding the golden ticket across the table to her as he leaned back in his chair.

"You've been really good to my Raven, and I respect that." Ricky smiled, nodding to Anne who watched as he slowly stood up, buttoning his jacket.

"Now, if ya'll excuse me, I gotta take a piss." Ricky added, clearly done with the conversation, and walked off to the side.

However, when Doris turned to catch Raven's expression, she didn't see the despair she expected. 

Instead, Raven looked like she was barely holding back a laugh, like something about the whole situation amused her deeply.

Because there was a reason Raven had placed Ricky at this table, and a reason she had never intervened to stop Doris' obvious attempt to derail the conversation. 

Whatever was unfolding was playing exactly into Raven's hands.

"Raven, you know he didn't mean it-"

"I understand, I actually do." Raven smiled softly at Abby, noticing the woman place a hand over her heart as she exhaled in relief.

Raven knew Ricky better than anyone in this hotel, let alone this table.

Raven knew exactly how he would respond the moment they tried to assert themselves over him, how he would shatter their facades and leave them scrambling for scraps of dignity. 

Because that was who Ricky was: relentless, ruthless, and a force that couldn't be tamed or bargained with.

But Raven didn't let that entire situation happen to just simply put these men in their places. 

No, she had a different role to play, the reasonable one. 

What Raven wanted, more than anything, was to reveal Ricky's true nature not through brute force, but through the quiet power of contrast.

This entire event wasn't simply a mere charity dinner.

It was Raven deliberately positioning herself as a buffer, the shield between Ricky and the fragile egos around them. 

And she found herself savoring the moment.

Watching as these men, so used to commanding rooms with arrogance and entitlement, swallowed their pride and glanced toward her for protection. 

They saw in her a kind of restraint they couldn't command, a gatekeeper who might hold back the storm.

And now, after all those grueling months spent catering to their arrogant whims and playing their stupid games.

Her investment was finally starting to pay dividends.

"Don't mind him, John," Raven said softly, offering a warm smile to the man who controlled half the oil stock in America. 

She smiled knowingly at these people, watching as they finally began to grasp what real power looked like, beyond mere monetary wealth.

Raven understood them better than they understood themselves. 

Having lived long enough, she'd seen how wealth twisted minds into believing they deserved their place at the top simply because of the fortune they possessed. 

But she also knew what it took to knock them off their high horses.

No amount of secondhand threats could truly scare them into submission. 

What they really needed, what it would take to get them exactly where Raven wanted them, was to witness power in its purest form. 

They needed to see the kind of person Ricky was, because from their perspective, they believed they were the same, or even superior.

But in reality, Ricky was completely different in every way.

Now, as their eyes flickered around the table, landing on Raven, she seemed like the most reasonable person in the room, if not the world.

Anne, quietly impressed, was a little shocked at how skillfully Raven had subtly baited Doris into pushing this confrontation so far. 

However, instead of making this fact clear, she raised her glass in a subtle, almost secretive, cheers.

"I'm sorry about him, but he just got back from a really rough business trip," Raven vouched for Ricky, lifting the glass to her lips with calm assurance. 

The room hung on her every word now, the weight of her presence shifting the atmosphere.

Before, she had been just another voice within the conversation, a mere bystander. 

But now, she owned the table. 

Almost borrowing off of Ricky's momentum.

"And coupled with how rough around the edges he can be sometimes," Raven said deliberately, reaching for her glass of juice and raising it to her lips.

"He is, might I say, a very expressive soul." Raven words echoed in their language, drawing soft laughs of relief from everyone.

Everyone except Doris, who stared down at the floor, unsettled by the sudden shift in the room's energy.

The tense atmosphere seemed to vanish as Raven took hold of the conversation, all questions gravitating toward her almost at the snap of a finger.

It was almost grueling for Doris to suddenly hear the conversation flowing so effortlessly around Raven as she couldn't bear the blatant, forced flattery any longer.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to use the little girl's room," Doris chuckled, standing up, met immediately by the response of another.

"I'll come with you, I also need to powder my nose," Raven laughed along, the two women leaving as the others exchanged glances before slipping into meaningless small talk.

Walking beside her, instead of the glare or sharp remark Doris expected, Raven quietly linked her arm with hers.

As they strolled, their arms intertwined, Raven didn't spare Doris so much as a glance, leading her into the women's bathroom.

Once inside, Raven gently slipped her arm free and moved toward the mirror, opening her purse with a soft hum.

At a subtle gesture from Raven, the bathroom attendant quickly slipped out since this was one of her own workers, after all.

Doris came to a slow stop as the door clicked shut behind her, watching intently as Raven pulled out a tube of lipstick while walking closer towards the mirror.

"You're not as clever as you think you are~" Raven chuckled softly, her eyes locking with Doris's reflection in the mirror, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

"If I'm being honest, you're very pretty, and if you somehow found yourself alone with Ricky, you'd get your chance." Raven said, a sly wink accompanying her words as Doris laughed, turning her face away with a mix of amusement and discomfort.

"But money doesn't make you special." Raven continued slowly, her voice low and deliberate as she began peeling back the layers of everything she'd come to understand about Doris.

"You know that deep down."

"But you're very beautiful, and you think men are only interested in you because of that beauty," Raven continued, slowly twisting the lipstick around her lips with practiced ease

"But what you really want is for them, all those men, to be interested in you because of who you are." Raven chuckled softly, pulling the lipstick away from her lips and slowly rubbing them together with a knowing smile.

"The problem, however, is that aside from your money and your looks, you're not very interesting." Raven said quietly, clicking the cap back onto the tube of red lipstick with finality.

"You're rude, spoiled, hostile, too outgoing but too withdrawn, and just sort of a b*tch," Raven said, turning around and leaning on the counter with a calm, almost pleasant smile.

"Even still, you want someone to look past all that, to the real person underneath." Raven paused, letting the weight of her words hang in the air.

"But the only reason anyone would even bother looking is because you're a beautiful heiress." Raven chuckled, tilting her head slightly, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

"Ironic, isn't it?" 

"In an odd way, you're your own problem." Raven's tone shifted again, becoming almost warm and sincere.

"Honestly speaking, Doris, you have a wonderful life, and it's the entire reason I invited you here." Raven's voice dropped, cold but controlled, each word deliberate.

"But if you intermingle with Ricky and have one of his bastards, well." Raven paused again, letting the implication hang heavily between them.

"You would just end up being my b*tch." Raven simply assessed, her gaze steady and unblinking as she stared directly into Doris's trembling eyes, catching the mix of fear and anger that shook her frame.

"I have sailed across the oceans longer than you have even lived," Raven laughed, amused by how abrupt it was for this little girl to actually start a fight with someone like her.

"And honey, every time a woman tries to take something from me, it always ends poorly for them." Raven shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips as she looked at the naïveté in the young girl.

"There is nothing in this world that can stop me from crushing those who stand on the other side of the room," Raven said deliberately, pointing directly at Doris as if to remind her that status meant nothing here.

"Now, you can have your way with Ricky, it honestly doesn't bother me because I don't see you as competition whatsoever." Raven said smoothly, her eyes locked on Doris with a quiet certainty.

"But you need to understand your place within this dinner, let alone this world." Raven said, her voice low and deliberate as she closed the distance between them. 

Doris's eyes flickered with panic while staring at the predatory yellow gleaming like a tiger within Raven's eyes.

The fear gripped her mind suddenly, forcing Doris to press her back against the door, suddenly feeling the walls closing in around her.

"And that is no matter how hard you try today, you will not go home with Ricky." Raven's words landed heavy, leaving a chilling finality in the air.

"The best chance you have is to let him f*ck you in that stall over there." Raven mocked, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the nearby bathroom stall.

"In fact, I won't even lift a single finger from this point forward to prove it won't happen." Raven said, stopping right before Doris, her voice calm but ice-cold.

"He will simply not go home with you." Raven whispered, her hand reached out almost tenderly to caress Doris's smooth cheek. 

"Because you're just a pretty rich woman, and that's not enough to go against me." Raven smiled warmly, her hand slowly slipping away from her trembling cheek.

Turning back toward the counter, Raven opened her purse and began searching for her makeup, as if the conversation had been nothing more than a mild interruption in her grand scheme.

"D-Do you even hear yourself?" Doris spat, her voice trembling but sharp, finally finding the courage to push back against Raven's calm demeanor.

"Do you even know who I am!"

However, Raven hummed softly, unbothered, as if Doris's outburst was just another note in a song she already knew by heart.

"The papers are splashed with my name, I am a socialite not even Anne-"

"There have been so many socialites before you, and there will be many more after, it doesn't make you special." Raven laughed, holding her hand over her mocking smile. 

"Not as special as a Luciano, that is," Raven finished smoothly, her eyes catching Doris's reflection in the mirror as she began to slowly apply her makeup.

"I can have Ricky if I want him!" Doris screamed, her eyes almost bloodshot as Raven laughed.

"Then, go on, try," Raven gestured, giving her full permission with a slow raise of a single finger.

"But if you ever do something like that, ever again, we will never be friends." Raven's words were nothing but cold as Doris swallowed whatever retort she had left.

"We will be enemies."

"And Luciano's only crush their enemies." Raven added simply, leaving those words hanging in the air before Doris stomped out of the room.

BAM

"Oh, Doris~" Raven whispered, her voice soft yet laced with finality, as she gazed into the mirror.

Behind her, the door slowly slammed shut, echoing through the empty room.

"The trick about beauty is learning what it means to be ugly." Raven said slowly, her eyes locking onto her own reflection as she finished applying her makeup.

"To feel ugly."

"And you'll only realize this fact too late, it's why I let you walk away unscathed after all." Raven whispered, carefully placing her makeup back into her purse.

Meanwhile, in the other bathroom, Ricky frowned, eyes drifting upward toward the ceiling as he pissed into the urinal, lost in thought.

"F*cking rich people, man~" Ricky sighed, shaking his head, knowing full well that Raven would throw a fit if he started kicking their asses at her dinner.

"Ahem." A voice interrupted from the side, making Ricky turn to see a Black man standing there with a towel slung over his arm.

"What the hell, where did you come from?" Ricky asked, glancing around, having not even noticed the man's presence.

"I'm a bathroom attendant, Mr. Luciano." The man chuckled softly, tipping his hat in a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

"No sh*t, how much do you get paid?" Ricky asked, zipping up his pants and turning to the man with a look of genuine curiosity.

"2.5 an hour plus tips-" 

"You're kidding?" Ricky blinked, completely taken aback by the absurdly low amount of money for standing around in a bathroom like this.

"Not at all, even more so when you realize that no one even uses this bathroom." The attendant said, shrugging with a wry smile.

"Why?"

"Because they prefer the one with the white restroom attendant since this was the designated mutant bathroom."

"Got a name?" Ricky asked, walking over to the sink as he flicked the faucet on.

"Folks call me Willie." Willie replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"So you're a bathroom attendant whose name is Willie?" Ricky raised an eyebrow, a grin creeping across his face.

"That's the joke, sir," Willie said with a slight bow of his head, barely holding back a grin.

"Pretty f*cking funny joke." Ricky laughed, scrubbing his hands under the water before Willie stepped forward and handed him a fresh towel.

"So how's the tips this evening?" Ricky asked, wiping his hands on the towel offered by Willie, who stood casually with his arms behind his back.

"Fifty cents, can't complain." Willie replied with an easy shrug.

"That's it?" Ricky blinked, surprised though the man was not at all bothered.

"Better than Clarence, the white guy in the other bathroom."

"Rich people don't tip." Willie winked, smiling ear to ear like a man who knew something nobody else did.

Namely, that he actually made more than Clarence, and enjoyed every bit of it.

"The f*ck they don't." Ricky laughed, reaching into his suit and pulling out a thick wad of cash.

"How many kids you got, Willie?" Ricky asked, swiping his thumb across the stack and flipping through the bills with a casual flick.

"F-Four-"

"Merry Christmas." Ricky said, stuffing four crisp hundred-dollar bills into Willie's front pocket and giving his shirt a firm pat.

"It's June, sir!" Willie called after him, half-laughing, half-panicked, as if the money might vanish if he didn't correct the record.

"Happy June!" Ricky laughed over his shoulder, waving a dismissive hand as he walked out, feeling lighter for the first time all night. 

There was something about giving cash to a man who deserved it, someone real, that took the edge off.

'Might as well have a look around.' Ricky muttered under his breath, pushing the bathroom door open with his shoulder. 

The last thing he wanted was to head back to that table. 

Not when he was one glass of champagne away from planting his fist in one of those smug bastards' faces.

"Hey, Ricky-"

"Not now," Ricky said flatly, holding up a hand without even turning his head toward the voice that called out to him.

Doris froze in place mid-step, her mouth slightly open as if a word had almost formed, but nothing came out.

The sheer finality in Ricky's tone was enough to turn her to stone as it contained no warmth, no sharpness, just dismissal. 

But what was worse, Ricky didn't even spare her a single glance.

"Ha~" 

A laugh echoed behind Doris, sharp and light like glass clinking against marble. 

Doris turned quickly, her cheeks still flushed with humiliation, only to see Raven walking right past her with a mocking smile curled at her lips.

"Hey, Ricky~" Raven sang out sweetly, her voice soaked in amusement as she winked at Doris.

Almost immediately, Ricky's head whipped over to that familiar sound, and the cold steel in his expression melted into something far softer.

"Listen, I didn't-"

"I know~" Raven cooed, closing the space between them as she gently cupped his cheek in her palm. 

"I know you just had to put them in their places, I understand." Raven's voice was velvet-smooth, laced with a quiet authority that made it clear she wasn't upset

Sigh

"Honestly, I don't know if you did that sh*t on purpose or you had no idea, but I won't press cause I still owe you for missing Thrawn's birth." Ricky said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, his voice carrying the weariness of a man who'd had just enough for one night.

However, Raven smirked knowingly, but said nothing as if to say they were now even.

"So, I'm gonna go walk around and talk with the other guests so they don't feel scammed." Ricky added, gesturing lazily over his shoulder with his thumb, already beginning to pivot away like he couldn't escape fast enough.

"Ok, but be back in time for the auction. It's very important that you're by my side before it starts," Raven said, patting his chest and waiting for him to lean down, brushing her lips with a quick kiss.

"Of course, baby." Ricky said, backing away while playfully holding Raven's arm as if it might slip away.

When Ricky turned around and spread his arms toward some of the other tables, Raven simply turned to Doris and winked at her.

Then, without missing a beat, she headed back to her table, giving Ricky some breathing room to work his magic.

But more importantly, allowing herself to secure as many donations as possible from the table while exerting her newfound influence.

Up until this point, the reason Raven never wanted these elites to meet Ricky was clear: the moment they did, their entire approach to her would shift. 

She needed to understand who among them was necessary to keep close and who was all talk.

Ricky's role was simple but strategic: to scare the high society elites enough that they'd come to Raven first whenever they needed something.

That was exactly what she wanted, and in a way, what Ricky wanted too.

Slowly, the atmosphere of the hall began to revolve entirely around Ricky. 

He realized it wasn't all the guests, just that one toxic table acting out, while the rest genuinely wanted to meet him.

It was almost like night and day. 

The subtle insults were replaced by endless flattery, compliments piling up until even Ricky started growing tired of it.

Yet, as he moved farther away from the table, the compliments grew more and more sincere, until he found himself genuinely enjoying most of his conversations.

"So, how's Robert doing?" Ricky asked, having settled into a conversation with the senator Robert Wagner Jr. 

Though they didn't talk much, Ricky never had a problem with him, which had unknowingly been enough to stay in his good graces.

Robert always kept to himself, but when disputes arose, he'd follow Henry's lead without question and take Ricky's side.

"He's good, really good, but the kid can't focus with all the girls around," Wagner joked, watching as Ricky broke into a hearty cackle.

"When's he finishing up, law school I mean?" Ricky asked, slicking back his hair while looking back to see Raven laughing along with the others at the table.

"Next spring actually-"

"That's great, tell him to drop by when he's done." Ricky said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a signed card.

"If he wants to get into politics, tell 'em to come find me since there're gonna be a lot of empty positions in D.C. in the future." Ricky said, placing it in Wagner's pocket as the man's face lit up with excitement.

"Holy sh*t, no way!" Ricky exclaimed, his eyes darting to the side before he pushed himself up and bolted to another table.

Wagner, however, remained seated, staring down at his son's golden ticket. 

His thumb absentmindedly rubbed over Ricky's bold signature as he glanced over at Raven, who was already watching him.

With a sly wink, she raised her glass, and the senator, understanding the silent connection, lifted his glass in return.

"How ya doing, Chief!" Ricky laughed, running over to the side to see a face he hadn't seen since leaving New York.

Chief Johnston, the man who had been in charge of the NYPD before he left to become the Black Knight.

"Actually, it's Judge," Judge Johnson said, the stout man standing up as Ricky pulled him into a warm hug.

"I'm f*cking glad Lucky did right by you!" Ricky exclaimed, patting the man on the back and pulling away.

"Yes, well, your father is a good man, and I thank him for the opportunity." Judge Johnson said, smiling ear to ear as Ricky gave his shoulder a solid pat.

"Man, judge, huh?" Ricky smiled, feeling genuinely glad to see a guy who had been their eyes and ears at the station when Albert and Dewey were trying to come after them.

"Guess I gotta say your honor from now on." Ricky joked, watching the man hold his belly and bark out laughter as well.

"I'm just surprised you remember me. When Raven invited me, I was a little shocked-"

"What are you talking about? You're my guy." Ricky chuckled, patting his shoulder and smoothing out the wrinkles.

"We would've been bats out there in broad daylight without guys like you," Ricky said, nostalgia washing over him as he recalled Albert being his initiation into the Luciano family.

"Good times~" Ricky added, nodding slowly while staring off into the distance, the chatter around him fading into the background of his memory.

"I-I'd actually like you to meet my son," Judge Johnson said, gesturing toward his neatly dressed son who stepped forward at his father's signal.

"He's my only child, like you are with Lucky, but instead of Yale, he's a Harvard man," Judge Johnson chuckled, assuming Ricky would've followed Henry over to Yale as he glanced to his right.

The kid was young, a bit more muscular than his father, but the resemblance was clear enough.

"Woah, Harvard~" Ricky said, holding up his hands like he couldn't even compare to a Harvard graduate.

"I-It's nothing compared to you, Mr. Luciano." The kid politely said, lowering his gaze to the man before him.

"I'm actually just excited to meet you since you're like a celebrity-"

"Oh c'mon, don't flatter me too much." Ricky laughed, waving his hand as if to dispel the endless compliments.

"So, you following the law like your old man?" Ricky asked, gesturing over to Judge Johnson with a playful smirk.

"Acutally I wanted to try my luck at politics." 

"Got a name?" Ricky asked, holding out his hand with a wry smile at yet another budding politician.

"Lawrence Johnson, sir." Lawrence held out his hand, receiving a shake from Ricky who nodded his head with a wry smile.

"Y'know, that has a good ring to it." Ricky suddenly thought to himself, closing his eyes as if he could picture it now.

"Pardon?" 

"Senator Johnson, it sounds really nice." Ricky muttered, watching Lawrence become stiff as the mobster patted his shoulder.

"I'll be in touch, Senator." Ricky laughed, walking past him as Lawrence looked at his mother, who wanted to cry as she hugged him.

It was more a statement than just an example since Ricky was about to make space for new people, his people.

He knew he needed bodies more than anything and was gathering as many as he could before starting his real work in D.C.

Yet, those who hadn't been granted the same interactions still watched Ricky fiercely, their eyes burning with silent greed. 

To them, his back wasn't just ambition, it was an unreachable summit they couldn't even see.

Even just following him promised heights they could never imagine climbing on their own.

As Ricky moved through the lower tables, he went with the flow, weaving through the crowd until he finally reached the very back.

Where the mutants were seated.

However, their reactions were muted compared to the others. Instead of flattery or endless praise, they were frozen, almost spellbound.

They watched silently as the man who had literally changed their entire lives suddenly plopped down at a table in their cluster and rubbed his forehead, lost in thought.

"Man, is this the sh*t Raven does all day?" Ricky whispered to himself, leaning back in the nearly empty seat as the mutants around him suddenly grew silent.

Although the majority of these mutants hailed from the sanctuary, even Elias couldn't prevent the staggering waves of media coverage surrounding Ricky from reaching their hands.

The title Ricky received 'Mutant Jesus' was not an exaggeration; to many, he truly was literally a mutant messiah.

Countless mutants were starting to see him like a figure akin to Moses leading the Jews, guiding them into a place that didn't suppress their existence but welcomed it instead. 

By the time they arrived in New York, even those who hadn't realized he was a mutant were forced to confront the reality of who Ricky was.

"Lemme guess, all of y'all are mutants." Ricky suddenly raised his head, his gaze sweeping along the cluster of tables as every pair of eyes shifted toward him.

"I–It's a pleasure to meet you." One man stammered, stepping forward with a hesitant smile. 

His hand began to rise in greeting, but halfway there he faltered, pulling it back as if the very thought of touching Ricky was too much.

"What? Don't wanna shake my hand?" Ricky joked, busting the guy's balls as the man awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"N-No I-........my power it's very inappropriate-"

"What does it do?" Ricky cut in, tilting his head as he casually held out his hand to the side, and Max rushed over with a fresh glass of champagne.

"I call it 'Information Sense' and it allows me to feel useful information from objects or people." the man blurted, words tumbling over themselves, trying not to sound rude under Ricky's stare.

"Oh sh*t, that's intrusive as f*ck." Ricky muttered, a crooked smile playing on his lips as Max slipped the glass into his hand.

"So, uh, you guys part of Raven's foundation?" Ricky asked, trying to be polite while assuming they all belonged to Raven's circle.

"O–Oh, no. Most of us here are part of Master Elias' sanctuary." The man gestured around the room, and the other mutants nodded in agreement.

"Oh, really?" Ricky muttered, cutting his eyes toward Raven as she only winked, and in that instant, he understood.

'What a fox~' Ricky thought, smirking to himself as he realized she was trying to poach Elias' mutants. 

And he was all for it.

"So, how's Elias treating ya?" Ricky asked, turning his gaze back to the man, who gave a thoughtful nod.

"Well, it has been an adjustment." the man admitted, watching the others slowly duck their heads.

"But Master Elias, the ever so dutiful figure, has found us shelter in-"

"Oh man, don't tell me he still has you guys living underground?" Ricky laughed, tossing it out as a joke until he noticed nearly fifty heads drop at once.

"Right?" Ricky pressed, his grin lingering before curling wider as the truth had slipped without a word, and Ricky could feel it.

That this was becoming almost too easy.

Talking about the Sanctuary with outsiders was considered taboo, especially since most within its walls rarely interacted with anyone beyond. 

However, when the invitation arrived, the upper leadership interpreted Elias' silence as a subtle form of permission, enough to allow those chosen to attend tonight's dinner. 

Lacking direct guidance from Elias, and unwilling to risk upsetting Ricky, they permitted the eventual doom of their sanctuary.

"Well, listen, I know you guys are against integrating into cities, 'cause of how sh*tty it was before." Ricky's voice carried a casual ease, but his eyes sharpened as they swept through the tables.

"But aren't you tired of living underground?" Ricky pressed, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Around him, dozens of mutants lowered their heads even further, as if the weight of his words pressed down on them.

"It's not like we have a choice-" One of the mutants muttered.

"The f*ck you don't!" Ricky laughed at the man's statement, watching him shrink before reaching out to pat his shoulder.

"Guys, remember, I'm a mutant." 

"Do you think anyone would f*ck with me?" Ricky genuinely asked, scanning the room as every head shook in reply.

"So why would they ever f*ck with you without good reason." Ricky chuckled, gesturing broadly to them all. 

His voice carried across the huddled tables, filling the space and pulling every mutant's attention squarely onto him.

"You know what? I don't know if it's the champagne or being surrounded by guys like me, but I'm in a really good mood." Ricky paused, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"It's why I'm gonna do you all a favor."

"Forget about Elias, and even forget about the foundation, for just a second and turn your ears toward me." Ricky said, motioning them closer as the mutants exchanged wary glances before slowly huddling in, forming a circle with their full attention locked on him.

"You see, we're stalling pretty bad over at the factory, and we need fresh bodies," Ricky began, his eyes roaming over the crowd of unemployed men and women mutants now standing straighter at the prospect.

"Lucky Corp is gonna make a huge announcement later, but I'm making an exception for you all right now," Ricky declared, his voice cutting through the quiet murmurs as every mutant leaned in.

"Until the end of the week, anyone who came to this dinner can get a free interview with Chester for managerial positions." Ricky let the words hang in the air, his tone smooth but commanding, as if he were granting them a privilege rather than an offer.

"Hell, I'll even throw in free jobs on the factory floor, all you gotta do is find your way over to Italiano's." Ricky said, pulling a pen from his pocket and scribbling the name across a napkin.

"This is how it's spelled. Remember it, and if they ask, tell 'em I sent you." Ricky stood as he spoke, handing the napkin directly to the man with Information Sense, as if entrusting him with something sacred.

"You should apply," Ricky finished, his nod carrying the weight of an order disguised as encouragement. 

Around him, the mutants locked their eyes on that single name, burning it into memory as if it were scripture.

"D-Do the jobs expire-"

"The only thing that expires is the interview. The jobs will be free no matter when you come, but you gotta go apply yourself." Ricky said, turning around and spreading his arms toward the man clutching the napkin as if it were some precious treasure.

"T-Thank you-"

"Aye, don't mention it." Ricky waved, walking back to the single table with a calm smile after cooling himself talking with the others. 

"So, what else do you got in store for me?" Ricky asked, plopping right next to Raven and putting his arm around her seat.

"Well, with the dessert about to be served, I think it's time to start the auction." Raven clasped her hands together, excited after receiving her goal of a million dollars.

After Ricky had left, Raven had essentially been receiving these men's and women's apologies in the form of donations. 

It was as if she were the Vatican, selling indulgences, and all of these people were buying them as a way to be forgiven by the Mutant Jesus.

But with John, Waldorf, and Hearst, they had all generously decided to donate large sums, pushing her total to her goal of one million dollars.

"Sounds fancy~" Ricky smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Raven's cheek as she couldn't contain her happy grin; this auction was shaping up to be the icing on the cake.

"So, what's the grand reveal?" Ricky asked, already guessing Raven had something extraordinary as the prize, his eyes following her as she slowly turned toward him.

"I didn't tell you?" Raven asked, feigning surprise as Ricky raised an eyebrow.

"The last item the foundation will be auctioning off is a date with me," Raven revealed, letting the news sink in as Hearst immediately perked up at the announcement.

Crack

"What?" Ricky asked, the glass in his hand cracking under his grip as Max quickly stepped forward to replace it.

"Why are you so surprised? I'm sure I told you." Raven said, smiling as she watched Ricky laugh and turn his head away.

"Ha~" Ricky laughed, shaking his head at just how sly this girl could be with some items.

"Is there something wrong?" Raven asked curiously, acting as if she didn't understand what had upset him.

"What's it gonna take?" Ricky asked simply, setting his glass on the table. The room fell silent, all eyes on them as the two shared an unguarded conversation.

"What do you mean-"

"Raven, baby, what's it gonna take?" Ricky asked, unable to even entertain the idea of letting Raven auction herself off.

"Well, I would love it if you'd take my place," Raven said, raising her glass and shooting a sidelong glance not at Ricky, but at Doris.

"That's why you wanted me at this dinner." Ricky laughed, shaking his head while planting his face in both hands at how easily he fell for her trap.

"But aren't you glad you came?" Raven asked, pinching his cheek as he frowned, though he didn't refuse.

"You're kinda scary, you know that?" Ricky said, smiling at being manipulated in such a harmless way.

"Fine, I'll switch places with you-"

"That's the spirit!" Doris encouraged, laughing as she opened her purse and pulled out her checkbook.

Jane, Kathrine, and Rose all rolled their eyes at the poorly guided attempt, while Anne simply raised her glass.

"Now I am looking forward to the auction," Anne said, squinting towards Doris, who flinched at the only woman who could rival her wealth.

"Well, then, let's start!" Raven declared, clapping her hands together and standing as Ricky shook his head.

Clink

Clink

Tapping her spoon against her champagne glass, she slowly made her way toward the stage, the whispers dying down as a spotlight bathed her in light.

"Good evening, everyone. I hope you've been enjoying yourselves."

"Before we start, I would love to thank John, Hearst, and Waldorf for being so generous as to help us already reach our donation goal," Raven gestured, her clap resounding through the room as Ricky shot the three a raised brow, and they nodded subtly in acknowledgment.

"But before we start the charity auction, I want you to know that it takes just five dollars to make a difference."

"That's enough to not only feed, but also clothe an entire mutant family," Raven assured them, watching even the mutants dig into their wallets, eager to help their own kind.

"Now, let the charity auction begin!"

For the next hour, Raven transformed into the auctioneer, her voice carrying through the gilded hall with a practiced cadence that struck the perfect balance between charm and command.

The items slid from her lips like silk, and the money flowed into the foundation's coffers with little resistance.

By the time the final paddle dropped, the tally was over half a million dollars that she squeezed out from the pockets of men and women who were usually more inclined to hoard than to part.

The sheer scale of it spoke volumes, especially since her ace in the hole, Ricky, had yet to lift a finger. 

His presence alone had been enough to keep the hall spellbound, but she had known better than to rely entirely on him.

Her original strategy had been simple: secure the table's pledged quota, lean on Ricky's looming shadow if she had to, and use the dinner as a safety net. 

But now, with the donations stacked high and her quota obliterated, the safety net had become a triumph. 

"And now, without further ado, our final item." Raven laughed excitedly, already imagining what she could do with the money as Ricky stood up.

A roar of applause followed him as he made his way onto the stage, standing beside his beloved Raven.

"Our final item will be an evening of your choosing with none other than Ricky Luciano!" Raven exclaimed, clapping her hands as a roar of applause erupted. Ricky raised his hand toward the crowd in acknowledgment.

"Could I?" Ricky asked, reaching for the microphone, and Raven laughed softly.

"By all means." Raven smiled, gesturing toward the mic as he slowly raised the stand.

"Listen, just so there's no confusion, whoever wins this dinner is getting my full, undivided attention." Ricky began, watching the room go silent as everyone's eyes widened at the meaning.

"If you want to chat, eat, or just get ahead in the world, bid on me."

"Because let's be honest, I can make it happen."

"And remember, I respond to generosity with kindness."

"So we're gonna start the bidding off at a hundred grand." Ricky said, holding the microphone as everyone below the high tables immediately put away their wallets and checkbooks.

"Two hundred thousand." 

A voice suddenly echoed as Doris stood, smiling at Ricky, her eyes reflecting everything she could ever want, wrapped into a single night.

"Okay, two hundred-"

"Two fifty," Anne said casually, holding up her paddle. 

Anne figured she needed a tax write-off anyway and might as well spend enough to enjoy the look of disappointment on Doris's face.

"Two seventy five-"

"Three hundred," Anne said coolly, interrupting Doris. 

The socialite was a lot of things, but she would never be richer than a Morgan.

Something Raven knew all too well, which was why she was completely unbothered by auctioning Ricky off in the first place.

"Three-"

"Four hundred," Anne said casually, turning to Raven and giving her a wink, making the woman smile.

"Anne, stop-"

"Or what?" Anne replied, confident that no matter how much Doris bid, she would ultimately crush her with nothing more than a paddle.

"Oh man, this is getting spicy!" Ricky laughed into the microphone, watching the spectacle unfold just like everyone else, as the room erupted in laughter.

"F-F-" Doris stammered, struggling to get the words out as Anne rolled her eyes.

"Five fifty."

"Damn!" Ricky exclaimed, narrating the scene as he watched Doris duck her head, her face flushing with frustration.

"Anne over there came to play, everybody give it up for Anne, real quick!" Ricky said, gesturing to the crowd, who immediately showered her with applause.

"Anyone else?" Ricky asked, though Anne was simply staring at Doris, who slowly sank back in her chair.

"It's a good thing you're pretty, Doris," Anne mused, watching as Doris tilted her head upward to meet Anne's gaze.

But when she looked up, it felt as if Anne was almost towering over her, staring down with effortless monetary dominance.

Although Doris was wealthy, Raven made it clear that it was her beauty that truly set her apart.

Because a few million could never compete with the legacy standing before her.

This was Anne Morgan, the once-favored child of J.P. Morgan, whose infamous fallout had left her shunned by the family. 

Yet even that scandal could never diminish her fortune.

Anne poured her resources into ventures that 'somehow' flourished, multiplying her wealth far beyond what most heirs could dream of. 

While others inherited vast sums, Anne was technically the only one who had surpassed what she had ever been given, truly the only Morgan to inherit her father's keen ability to multiply wealth.

"Going once, going twice, and sol-"

BAM

Before Ricky could even finish, the doors slammed open, their hinges groaning as they crashed against the walls. 

The sudden intrusion ripped through the rhythm of the auction like a crack of thunder, and then came the voice.

A booming bid hurled across the hall with such authority that even Anne, usually so composed, shot to her feet without thinking.

The instant recognition made her chest tighten, her eyes widening until they nearly shimmered with disbelief.

It was him.

Her Father.

The richest man in America. 

The titan whose name could sway markets and rattle governments.

J.P. Morgan.

"Five million." 

Author's Note: Srry if their spelling errors but I was up way to late doing this sh*t and really jsut wnated ot get this out but also, I have been totally not replyingto comments but I see them, I read them, but I'm just f*cking lazy to reply but I'll get to them over the course of htis weekend.