Chapter 2: The Weight of Steel
Julian’s face went from flushed and arrogant to a sickly, translucent white. His hands, usually so steady when closing million-dollar deals, began to tremble violently. The dog tag wasn't just a piece of metal—it was a relic from a nightmare he had buried in the basement of his family’s old estate.
"You..." Julian whispered, his voice cracking. "You’re dead."
The woman stood to her full height, her eyes locked onto his with the intensity of a sniper. "I was never dead, Julian. I was just kept in the dark. Literally."
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The bride, Elena, stepped forward, her silk veil catching on a chair. "Julian? What is she talking about? Who is this?"
Julian didn't answer. He couldn't. His gaze was fixed on the date engraved on the silver tag—a date that marked the night of the ‘accidental’ fire that had supposedly claimed the life of the family’s old house manager, a woman who had been a second mother to him before he decided her silence was worth more than her life.
