Chapter 5 - The Grand Illusion
The Grand Ballroom of the Solmere Hotel was breathtaking.
Thousands of crystal lights illuminated the massive space.
Champagne flowed like water.
The elite of the country had gathered, dressed in their finest tuxedos and designer gowns.
At the front of the room stood Richard Sterling.
He held a glass of champagne, his face flushed with greed and victory.
Beside him stood Vivian, wearing a red velvet dress, soaking in the attention like a sponge.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Richard spoke into the golden microphone, his voice booming across the room.
The crowd quieted down.
“Tonight is a bittersweet night. We gather here to honor the memory of my dear sister, Eleanor, and my beloved niece, Charlotte.”
He paused, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.
The crowd murmured in sympathy.
“But life must go on,” Richard continued, his voice strengthening. “And to ensure the Solmere legacy survives, I am proud to announce the merger of Solmere Hotels with global investors.”
He smiled greedily.
“Tonight, I officially sign over the controlling shares, securing a new future for all of us!”
The crowd erupted into polite applause.
Alexander Sterling stood in the back of the room, swirling a glass of scotch.
He looked bored, his cold eyes scanning the room with absolute disdain.
His intelligence team had reported back to him an hour ago.
The maid who had been beaten in the lobby didn't exist in any government database.
Her fingerprints matched a dead girl.
Alexander had immediately put the pieces together.
He knew exactly what was about to happen, and for the first time in years, he was genuinely thrilled.
Up on the stage, Richard lifted his golden pen, ready to sign the massive contract that would make him a billionaire ten times over.
Suddenly, the music stopped.
The heavy, soundproof oak doors at the back of the ballroom slammed open with a deafening crash.
The cold night wind rushed into the warm room, making the chandeliers chime like alarm bells.
Every single head in the room turned.
Every breath caught in every throat.
Standing in the doorway, bathed in the spotlight, was a vision from the dead.
She was wearing the Midnight Diamond gown, the crushed sapphires glittering like stars against the dark fabric.
Her dark hair was styled in soft, elegant waves.
The bruise on her face had been masterfully covered by makeup, but her eyes were lethal.
Around her neck, resting against her collarbone, was the Solmere Star—a fifty-carat diamond necklace that only the true head of the family could wear.
The silence in the room was absolute.
The pen slipped from Richard’s trembling fingers and clattered onto the stage.
Vivian gasped, her face draining of all color, looking as if she had seen a ghost.
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Alexander Sterling finally smiled, raising his glass of scotch toward the doorway in a silent toast.
Charlotte Vale had returned.
