Chapter 6 - The Ghost from the PastThe heavy oak doors of the study burst open.
Victoria Vance stood on the threshold, her hair disheveled, her designer coat half-buttoned, and her eyes wild with a mixture of terror and desperate greed. Behind her, two security guards tried to intervene, but Camila raised a hand to stop them.
“Leave us,” Camila commanded quietly.
The guards nodded and backed out, clicking the heavy door shut.
Victoria stepped into the room, her chest heaving. She looked around the opulent study, sneering with a twisted mix of envy and hatred. “You think you’ve won everything, don't you, Camila? You sit here playing queen on a throne built by a dead man, while Edwin weeps in the gutter.”
Camila didn’t flinch. She walked slowly over to the wet bar, poured herself a glass of sparkling water, and took a slow sip before looking at Victoria.
“You took my husband, you helped him embezzle millions from my family's company, and you think you can storm into my home screaming?” Camila’s voice was dangerously soft. “You must have a death wish, Victoria.”
Victoria let out a shrill, hysterical laugh. “Your husband? Edwin never loved you! He used you because your father kept him on a tight leash! And speaking of your precious father... do you really think he died of a natural heart attack?”
The glass in Camila’s hand froze inches from her lips. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“What did you just say?” Camila whispered, her eyes locking onto Victoria with lethal intensity.
Victoria grinned maliciously, stepping closer to the desk. “My father was George Stanford's original partner twenty years ago—the man your father systematically ruined and forced out of the company to steal all the glory! Edwin didn't just happen to find me by accident, Camila. We planned it. We drugged your father’s medical monitors last night while Edwin was at the office. The stress of our corporate takeover gave the old man the final push he needed!”
Wayne’s face turned pale as he realized what Victoria was admitting.
Camila didn't scream. She didn't cry. A terrifying, dead silence filled the room.
She simply reached out, pressed the intercom button on her desk, and spoke into the speaker.
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“Security. Call the LAPD homicide division and federal marshals. Tell them we have a full confession to premeditated murder and corporate espionage.”
Victoria’s triumphant smirk instantly shattered into pure terror.
