Chapter 2 - THE REVERSE CARD
⚠️ PLOT TWIST OF THE CENTURY: She thought she ruined her stepdaughter’s life with a bottle of ink, but she actually signed her own ARREST WARRANT! ⚠️"Call the police!" Celeste screamed from the floor, her voice hysterical. "They are holding us hostage! This is illegal confinement! Open those doors right now!"
"The doors stay locked, Celeste," I said calmly, handing the brass key to Noah. "And as for the police... they are already on their way. But they aren't coming to rescue you."
The crowd erupted into frantic murmurs. Relatives who had taken Celeste’s side for the last six months were suddenly trying to distance themselves from her, moving toward the back of the room like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
My aunt Beatrice, who had laughed when Celeste threw the ink, scrambled forward with a napkin. "Oh, Eleanor, sweetie, let me help you wipe that off! I always knew that horrible woman was up to no good—"
"Save it, Beatrice," I said, stepping back from her outstretched hand. "You sat at her table. You accepted her gifts. You watched her push me out of my father’s funeral, and you said nothing because you thought she held the purse strings."
I looked around the room, taking in every single face. The fake friends. The corrupt business partners. The vultures who thought the Vance empire was ripe for the picking.
"For the past six months, all of you have treated me like an inconvenience," I continued, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings of Blackthorne Castle. "Celeste told you I was unstable. She told you I was incompetent. She told you my father left everything to her in a private will. And you all believed her because it was easier than standing up for the truth."
"Because it is the truth!" Celeste shrieked, struggling against the security guards. "I have the signed will! Arthur left the entire estate to me! The house, the stocks, the castle—everything! You have nothing but a stupid video and a dress covered in dirt!"
"Do you want to tell her, Noah, or should I?" I asked, a cold smile touching my lips.
Noah pulled a sleek tablet from his jacket pocket and tapped the screen. The main projectors changed again. This time, a legal document appeared. It was my father's official, ironclad Last Will and Testament, stamped and verified by the State Supreme Court just three days before his passing.
"This is the real will," Noah announced to the room. "The document Celeste has been flaunting for the past four months was a forgery, drafted by a disbarred attorney whom Julian paid two hundred thousand dollars to stay quiet."
Noah looked directly at Celeste, his eyes cutting like ice. "Arthur Vance knew you were poisoning his medicine, Celeste. He knew you were slowly killing him."
A collective gasp echoed through the ballroom.
Celeste froze, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated terror. "That’s a lie! He died of heart failure!"
"He died of digitalis toxicity," I corrected her, the tears finally burning my eyes—not from shame, but from the raw agony of knowing what my father had suffered. "He knew what you were doing, but he was too weak to fight you openly. He knew if he cut you out of the will while he was still alive, you would have finished him off even sooner, or destroyed the evidence before I could find it."
I pointed to my ruined gown.
"He hid the flash drive, the ledger key, and his medical records inside the lining of my mother's dress because he knew it was the one thing in the entire house you would never look at. You hated my mother. You hated anything associated with her. You threw a bottle of ink at this dress tonight because you wanted to destroy her memory. But instead, you uncovered the evidence that is going to put you away for life."
Julian backed away slowly, eyeing the side exit near the catering kitchen. He thought he could slip away into the dark grounds of Blackthorne Castle.
But before he could even touch the door handle, the heavy wood exploded inward.
A dozen armed federal agents stormed into the ballroom, their vests clearly marked with FBI. Behind them was Detective Miller, a long-time friend of my father’s who had been working with Noah in secret for months.
"Julian Thorne! Celeste Vance!" Detective Miller shouted, his voice booming over the chaos. "Hands where I can see them! You are under arrest for corporate fraud, grand larceny, wire fraud, and first-degree attempted murder."
Julian tried to run, but two agents tackled him into the chocolate fountain. The massive structure collapsed, showering his custom tuxedo in thick, brown sludge.
The guests screamed and scrambled out of the way as Julian was dragged out of the ruins, dripping with chocolate and whimpering as the steel handcuffs clicked around his wrists.
Celeste didn't fight. As the agents pulled her up from the floor, she looked at me, her eyes filled with a desperate, animalistic hatred.
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"You think you’re smart, Eleanor?" she spat, her face twisted in a hideous mask. "You’re still just a fat, lonely girl! Nobody loves you! You’re nothing without your father’s money!"
"Maybe," I said softly, looking down at my ink-stained dress. "But tonight, I have my father’s justice. Take her away."
