Chapter 3 - The Ghost from the Past ReturnsViral Hook: The front grand gates of the mansion swing open on their own. A man everyone thought died in a fiery crash five years ago steps out of a dark Rolls-Royce!
Before Eleanor could deny the accusation, the massive crystal chandelier above the dining table flickered violently. From the grand foyer, the heavy sound of heavy footsteps echoed up the marble staircase.
"Looking for me, Arthur?"
A tall, silver-haired man stepped into the dining hall, draped in a custom charcoal suit, a smirk playing lazily across his lips. It was Julian Vance. He looked older, scarred across his left jawline, but his eyes held the exact same predatory gleam.
The room gasped. Several high-society guests dropped their wine glasses, shattering the silence.
"Julian?!" Arthur stood up so fast his chair crashed backward onto the floor. "You're... you're dead. Your private jet burned to ashes over the Atlantic!"
Julian chuckled, walking leisurely toward the head of the table as if he owned the place—because, according to the forged papers, he legally did as of midnight. "A clever little magic trick, my old friend. Bodies are so terribly hard to identify when you swap the dental records of a Jane Doe in a stolen hangar fire. And Eleanor here? Well, she was always tired of living in your shadow."
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Julian turned his gaze to Eleanor, who had stopped crying. A cold, calculating smile crept onto her face as she wrenched her arms out of the guards' grip and stood up, smoothing her designer dress.
"Yes, Arthur. Julian is back," Eleanor spat out, her voice dripping with pure venom. "For thirty years, I played the loyal trophy wife while you treated me like a decorative vase in your corporate museum. I earned every single penny of this empire."
