Chapter 5 - THE UNINVITED GUESTS
The Grand Ballroom of the Royal Sovereign Hotel was the epitome of luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung from fifty-foot ceilings, illuminating hundreds of high-society figures dressed in tuxedos and ballgowns.
At the center of the stage stood Lord Marcus Vance—a tall, silver-haired man in his late fifties with cold, calculating eyes and a predatory smile. Beside him was Julian Whitmore, Eleanor’s son, looking nervous as he repeatedly checked his phone, unaware that his mother was already ruined.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Marcus announced into the golden microphone, his voice echoing through the grand hall. "Tonight marks a historic milestone. The complete integration of the former Vance Maritime assets into my conglomerate. From this night forward, we control seventy percent of the city's trade!"
The crowd broke into thunderous applause.
"To Lord Marcus!" someone yelled, raising a glass.
"To victory!" Marcus laughed, raising his crystal glass of champagne.
BANG!
The massive double doors at the back of the ballroom blew inward with explosive force, shattering into a thousand wooden splinters.
The applause turned into shrieks of terror as smoke poured into the room. Guests scrambled backward, knocking over champagne towers and ice sculptures.
Through the haze of white smoke, two figures walked side-by-side into the hall.
Victor Vance marched in, flanked by four armed operatives in full tactical gear. But it wasn't Victor who drew every breath out of the room.
It was the young woman walking beside him.
Emily wore a floor-length crimson gown, her head held high, her hair styled in a sleek crown. Hanging prominently around her neck was the golden pocket watch, gleaming under the bright crystal chandeliers.
Marcus’s face turned from triumphant joy to sheer, paralyzed horror. His glass slipped from his fingers, shattering loudly against the marble floor.
"You..." Marcus breathed, his voice trembling. "Catherine’s child..."
Julian Whitmore stepped forward, pointing a finger at Emily angrily. "Security! Who let these terrorists in?! She's just a waitress from my mother's catering company!"
"Shut up, you idiot!" Marcus roared, backhandling Julian so hard the young man crashed onto a catering table.
Marcus stared at Emily, his eyes fixated on the watch resting against her chest. "How... how are you alive? Drake was supposed to—"
"Drake failed," Emily interrupted, her voice ringing clearly across the terrified ballroom. "Just like your hitmen failed ten years ago."
She walked slowly down the central aisle, the crowd parting for her like the Red Sea. Every high-society member held their breath, realizing that the 'waitress' they had ignored for years was standing before them like a vengeful queen.
"Ten years ago, you murdered my father, Marcus," Emily said, stopping ten feet from the stage. "You stole our name, our money, and our life. You left my mother to die in poverty, and you thought you could wipe us out of history."
Marcus tried to regain his composure, forcing a sinister smile. "Nonsense! You have no proof! I am the legitimate heir to the Vance Empire!"
"Are you?" Victor spoke up, stepping forward with a leather briefcase. "Because according to the Vance Family Trust, the entire empire belongs to the direct bloodline of Arthur Vance—holding the Master Security Crest."
Victor opened the briefcase, pulling out a tablet connected to a satellite uplink.
"We just broadcasted the encryption code from Emily’s pocket watch to every major financial institution in the world," Victor announced. "As of two minutes ago, every single bank account, stock portfolio, and asset under your name has been frozen."
Marcus’s phone in his pocket began to buzz violently. Then his secretary’s phone rang. Then the phones of five major board members standing on the stage.
Panic broke out on the stage as board members looked at their screens.
"Our stocks are plummeting!" "The bank just revoked our credit line!" "We're completely locked out!"
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Marcus stared at Emily, his eyes wild with desperate rage. He slowly reached into his suit jacket. "You ruined me... you filthy little brat!"
He pulled out a silver pistol and pointed it directly at Emily’s heart!
