Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the PastEthan looked good. Too good. The gray at his temples only added to his distinguished, corporate-executive appeal. In his custom Brioni tuxedo, he radiated the smug confidence of a man who believed he had outsmarted fate.
Beside him, Jessica was draped in a crimson Versace gown that screamed for attention. She looked like a woman who had won a prize, clinging to Ethan's arm as reporters shouted questions about their upcoming wedding and their joint acquisition of Reynolds-Parker stock.
"Ethan, darling, look at the cameras," Jessica cooed, her voice carrying up to the mezzanine. "Everyone’s watching us. We’re practically royalty tonight."
"We earned it, Jess," Ethan replied, his voice smooth, laced with that familiar self-satisfaction. "We left the dead weight behind. Look where we are now. No anchors. No past holding us back."
No anchors.
I gripped the glass railing so hard my knuckles turned white.
"Mommy, your hand is cold," Chloe whispered, looking up at me with those giant hazel eyes.
I instantly relaxed my grip, offering my daughter a warm, reassuring smile. "I'm okay, baby. Just thinking about how much fun we're going to have."
Down below, the MC took the microphone, his voice booming across the grand ballroom. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight would not be possible without our lead architectural sponsor and corporate benefactor, Mr. Ethan Parker and Ms. Jessica Reynolds!"
Applause thundered through the room. Ethan stepped up to the podium, flashing his trademark million-dollar smile. He soaked in the adoration, raising a glass of champagne to the crowd.
"Thank you all," Ethan began into the microphone. "Building the future of Seattle has been my life's work. When you clear away the old structures that no longer serve you, you make room for true greatness. Tonight represents a new beginning, a clean slate, and a future unburdened by—"
"Excuse me, Mr. Parker?"
The voice didn't come from the microphone. It rang out crystal clear, amplified by the high acoustics of the ballroom, cutting Ethan off mid-sentence.
Every head in the room turned.
May you like
I hadn't spoken. I was still standing on the mezzanine.
It was Victoria Vance, standing right at the front of the VIP section near the stage, holding a thick manila folder stamped with the King County Superior Court seal.
