Chapter 3: The Ghost’s Retribution
Evelyn retreated, her silk dress catching on the jagged edges of the broken wine glass. "You... you died! The plane... the wreckage!"
Elias didn't acknowledge her hysteria. He walked toward her, his gaze locked on her face with a lethal, untouchable calm. He stopped only a few feet away, his presence so commanding that Clara, still on her knees, felt the shift in gravity.
"Did you really think you could forge my will?" Elias said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal finality. "Did you think that a few forged signatures and a fabricated obituary could erase a man who built an empire from nothing?"
Evelyn’s mind raced, searching for an exit, a lie, a defense. She looked toward the door, but the hall was blocked by Elias’s security detail—men she recognized as his original, loyal inner circle, the ones she had thought were dead or bribed.
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"I have everything, Elias!" she shrieked, her mask of grace disintegrating. "The board... the patents... the wealth is mine!"
Elias didn't scream. He didn't rant. He simply reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek, black leather briefcase. He dropped it onto the marble floor. It landed with a heavy, final sound, the metal latches clinking like a prison door locking shut.
