Chapter 2: The Ghost of Manhattan
"Harrison? Darling, what is wrong with you?" Victoria asked, her laughter turning into a confused frown as she looked between her pale husband and the silent maid. "It’s just a clumsy servant. Don't tell me a little dirty water ruins your evening."
Harrison couldn't speak. His throat was completely constricted by a suffocating, paralyzing dread. Seven years ago, Elena Vance had been his lead investigative accountant—and the woman who had uncovered the massive, multi-million-dollar offshore bribery network that funded his political rise. The fire that consumed her apartment building was supposed to have burned the evidence, and her, to absolute ash.
While Victoria continued mocking her, completely unaware of the devastating truth, Elena calmly reached into the deep, soaked pocket of her white apron. She didn't pull out a cleaning rag or a phone.
Instead, she drew out a heavy, antique gold pocket watch. The glass face was cracked, and the edges were distinctly blackened and blood-stained—evidence that Harrison never expected to see again in this lifetime.
"You... you're dead," Harrison finally choked out, his voice a pathetic, high-pitched whisper that drew the attention of the surrounding security detail and high-profile guests.
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"Some people don't return for revenge, Senator," Elena said. Her voice wasn't the broken whimper of a servant; it was clear, melodic, and carried the terrifying resonance of an absolute executioner. "They return for justice."
Victoria’s eyes locked onto the pocket watch. The engraving on the back was clearly visible under the chandelier lights: To Harrison, My Sovereign Heir. It was the unique heirloom Harrison had claimed was lost in the very same fire that supposedly took Elena’s life—the very fire he had used to claim a massive insurance payout and garner a wave of public sympathy votes.
