Chapter 3: The Darkest Truth
"No, wait," a small, clear voice suddenly chimed in from behind Beatrice.
Julian turned his head slowly, his breath catching as his seven-year-old nephew, Leo, stepped forward out of the crowd. The young boy had been staring intently at Clara, his innocent eyes seeing past the uniform and the amnesia.
Leo looked up at his uncle, completely calm, and pointed a tiny finger directly at the emerald ring on Clara's hand.
"Uncle Julian, you said Aunt Vivienne was wearing that ring when the ground took her," Leo said, his words echoing through the dead-silent ballroom. "But if the maid is wearing the ring... then who is in the coffin?"
The question hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog.
If she is wearing the ring, who did I bury?
Julian let go of Clara’s wrist, stepping back as if he had just been struck by lightning. He looked at Clara, who was staring back at him, a sudden, sharp pain crossing her brow as her amnesiac mind tried to violently break through the mental wall blocking her memories.
Julian turned his gaze toward his mother, Beatrice, and his business partner, Richard, who were standing nearby. To his horror, he didn't see confusion on their faces. He saw absolute, pale-faced terror. They weren't shocked by the maid; they were terrified that she had been found.
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In a single, devastating moment, the pieces of a sickening conspiracy fell into place. The house fire hadn't been an accident. Vivienne hadn't died. Someone had switched her body with an unidentified casualty, stolen her identity, and attempted to hide the real Vivienne away in the service industry under a layer of trauma and forgotten memories, all to seize her massive inheritance shares in Vance Global.
Julian looked back at Clara, his voice no longer aggressive, but cracking with raw, emotional devastation. "Vivienne...?"
