Chapter 2 - The Contract of SilenceTwo hours later, the ballroom had been violently cleared. The elite guests had fled like rats from a sinking ship, taking the juicy gossip to every private group chat in the city.
In the private executive suite overlooking the glittering skyline, Julian poured himself a scotch, his hand shaking slightly. Vivian paced the imported Persian rug, her heels clicking a staccato rhythm of pure rage.
"Do you have any idea what the headlines will say tomorrow morning?" Vivian hissed, spinning to face him. "Billionaire’s Daughter Rejects Step-Mother for Lowly Waitress. Julian, we are a laughingstock! Fire her. Sue the catering agency. Pay her off and make sure she never steps foot in this city again!"
"It’s not that simple," Julian said coldly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
"Nothing is simple with you!" Vivian shrieked. "You let that child run wild. And now you're hesitating? Look at me, Julian. Is your empire worth being humiliated by a girl in a polyester apron?"
Before Julian could answer, the heavy oak door swung open. Marcus, Julian’s head of security and personal fixer, stepped inside, sliding a manila folder onto the mahogany desk.
"Background check on Anna Vance," Marcus said flatly. "Twenty-four years old. Art history major dropped out three years ago due to financial ruin. Zero criminal record. But..." Marcus paused, exchanging a significant look with Julian. "There's a complication, sir. She isn't just an agency temp."
Julian frowned. "Explain."
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"Her mother was Elena Vance. The lead interior designer on the West Tower project five years ago. The one who... passed away under mysterious circumstances right before the grand opening."
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. The scotch glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor.
