Chapter 3 - GHOSTS OF THE PASTThe panic in Conrad’s eyes quickly morphed into a desperate, feral survival instinct. He had built his entire identity on being the apex predator of the room, and the humiliation of being dismantled publicly by his own blood was driving him insane.
“Security!” Conrad roared, his voice cracking with fury as he spun around to face the ballroom doors. “Throw this impostor out! Drag her and this ungrateful brat Julian out of my sight!”
Not a single security guard moved.
The six burly men stationed around the perimeter of the ballroom—men wearing discreet earpieces and tactical blazers—remained completely frozen. In fact, two of them subtly shifted their stance, squaring their shoulders toward Conrad and Damian.
Conrad blinked, staring at the head of security. “Tom! Are you deaf? I pay your salary! Remove them!”
Tom stepped forward, but instead of approaching me, he walked straight past Conrad and stopped inches away from me, snapping crisp, military-grade salute.
“Admiral Voss,” Tom said loudly, his voice echoing professionally. “Perimeter is secure. Federal marshals are stationed at all exits, and the financial audit team has frozen all secondary Voss accounts pending federal review.”
The color drained entirely from Conrad’s face. He looked like a man who had just been told his execution date.
“Federal review?” Damian shrieked, losing whatever shred of composure he had left. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You set us up! You weaponized the government against your own family!”
“My family?” I turned to Damian, my eyes flashing with a cold fire that silenced him instantly. “Where was this family loyalty twenty-one years ago when you stood behind him and laughed while I was thrown out into a freezing downpour? Where was your family bond when you spent millions of embezzled company funds on offshore accounts while letting loyal employees lose their pensions?”
Damian stepped back, his face turning pale. “You... you don't know what you’re talking about.”
“I know everything, Damian,” I replied smoothly. “Every shell company. Every forged signature. Every bribe paid to municipal inspectors to cover up the safety violations at the shipping yards.” I pulled a small, sleek encrypted tablet from the pocket of my navy dress and held it up. “The Department of Justice has a very comprehensive file on the Voss Group. And guess who authorized the forensic audit that handed it to them on a silver platter?”
I smiled.
“Me.”
Conrad let out a sound like a wounded animal. He lunged forward, his hands clawing at the air as if he wanted to physically choke the life out of me, just like he used to do with his fists behind closed doors when I was a child.
“You ungrateful bitch!” Conrad screamed, spitting with rage as he rushed toward me. “I should have strangled you the night you were born!”
Before Conrad could take two steps, Julian intercepted him, grabbing his grandfather’s wrist with iron strength and forcing him back. At the same time, two of the tactical security agents stepped in, pinning Conrad’s arms behind his back with practiced efficiency.
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“Unhand me!” Conrad thrashed wildly, his perfect silver hair coming undone, his tuxedo jacket twisting awkwardly. “Do you know who I am? I am Conrad Voss! I built this city!”
“You didn't build anything, Conrad,” I said softly, walking past him toward the center of the dance floor. “You merely occupied a throne built by other people's blood, sweat, and silence. And now... your lease is up.”
