Chapter 3 - BLOOD TIES AND BROKEN PROMISES
📢 VIRAL HOOK: "He Opened His Dead Wife's Urn On Live Camera... What Fell Out Horrified millions!""They're coming through," Julian said, his eyes darkening with a cold, ruthless realization that replaced his confusion. The man who had been dead inside for five years was suddenly surging with adrenaline. "There’s a coal chute at the back of this cellar. It leads into the rear alley."
"Where do we go?" Sarah asked, clutching Lily to her chest.
"We go to my house," Julian gritted out. "We finish this where it started."
Twenty minutes later, under the cover of a sudden torrential downpour, a stolen delivery van pulled into the long, iron-gated driveway of the Vance Estate. The sprawling Victorian manor stood like a dark monolith against the stormy sky.
Julian bypassed the alarm system—a code he had memorized as a child—and led Sarah and Lily into the dimly lit study. The room smelled of mahogany, old paper, and stale whiskey.
Standing on the central mantlepiece was the sleek, silver urn that Julian had wept over for nearly two thousand nights.
Sarah gasped, taking a step back as she stared at the vessel. "You kept it here?"
"Every day," Julian murmured. He walked over to the desk, pulled out his phone, and tapped a series of buttons. "I'm starting a private encrypted live feed to the board members of Blackwood Securities, including the press network. If Marcus wants a war, he’s getting a broadcast."
He pointed the phone’s tripod toward the fireplace mantel, mounting the camera. The red recording light blinked to life.
"Julian, what are you doing?" Sarah asked, trembling.
"Proving the truth."
Julian stepped up to the urn. He reached out, his hands remarkably steady now, grabbed the silver lid, and twisted it off.
He inverted the urn, dumping its contents onto the desk right in front of the lens.
Gray ash poured out... followed by a heavy, metallic CLANK.
Among the pile of grey powder sat three black plastic USB drives, a set of military-grade encryption keys, and a miniature biometric tracking device—blinking with a faint green light.
Sarah dropped to her knees, clutching her mouth. "The research files... I hid them in the container before Marcus took me! But... how did they end up in the urn?"
"Because Marcus didn't burn you," a smooth, cultured voice spoke from the shadows of the doorway.
The lights flickered on, illuminating the room.
May you like
Standing in the entrance, flanked by two armed guards, was Marcus Vance—wearing a bespoke suit, holding a silver umbrella dripping with rain, and smiling with terrifying calmness.
"Hello, brother," Marcus said smoothly. "I see you finally opened your present."
