Chapter 2: The Sound of the Return
Evelyn was holding a glass of vintage Bordeaux, her movements fluid and triumphant. She had just finished a phone call with her legal team, finalizing the sale of the Vance tech patents—a deal that would net her hundreds of millions and allow her to flee the country by morning.
"Clara," Evelyn sneered, swirling her wine, "you missed a spot near the threshold. If you can't even manage a simple floor, how can you expect to be fed tonight?"
Clara lowered her head, her lips trembling. She was about to offer an apology when a sound resonated through the hall—not the sound of a guest, but the distinct, heavy click of the main security system being overridden.
The heavy, reinforced oak front doors, which Evelyn had personally ordered to be kept bolted and alarmed, swung inward with a slow, deliberate creak. There was no struggle, no force. The system recognized the master code.
May you like
Evelyn froze. Her glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble. "Impossible," she whispered, her voice failing her.
Out of the encroaching darkness of the driveway, a figure stepped into the hall. He was older, his face etched with the weariness of a man who had walked through hell, but his posture was that of a king reclaimed. Elias Vance stood in the entrance, his righteous fury radiating off him like heat from a furnace.
