Chapter 7 - Shadows from the PastA year passed, bringing a quiet, unyielding peace to Arthur’s life. The media storm had faded into whispers, replaced by articles praising his resilience and business acumen. Under his leadership, the Vance Corporation expanded globally, reaching unprecedented heights.
Yet, life on the fifty-thirteenth floor of the penthouse was intensely solitary.
Late one rainy evening, as the city lights blurred through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, Arthur sat by the fireplace with a glass of aged single-malt scotch.
His phone, resting on the side table, suddenly lit up with an unknown, restricted incoming call.
Arthur frowned. He rarely gave his private number out to anyone outside his inner circle of trusted executives.
He picked up the phone and pressed accept.
— Hello? — Arthur asked, his voice steady.
For a few seconds, there was only static and the sound of heavy, labored breathing on the other end of the line. Then, a raspy, distorted whisper echoed through the speaker.
— You think you won, Arthur... but the game was never just about Clara and me.
Arthur stood up instantly, his eyes narrowing as adrenaline spiked in his veins.
— Who is this? Identify yourself, — he demanded, stepping away from the fireplace toward the window.
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— Clara was just a pawn. A hungry little girl reaching for candy she couldn't afford. But someone put that poison in her head in the first place, Arthur. Someone who lost a lot more than money when you married her, — the voice hissed, laced with a venomous, chilling amusement.
Before Arthur could trace the signal or demand answers, the line went dead with a sharp click.
