Chapter 4: The Gala of Lies
Three days later, the "farewell gala" for the Thorne estate took place. Claire had refused to cancel it, claiming she needed to maintain appearances until the final signatures were dry. The elite of the town were there, sipping champagne, oblivious to the fact that the man who owned the house was watching from the shadows of his own study.
Elias had invited the District Attorney and a team of federal agents. He had instructed them to wait for his signal.
He walked into the ballroom, still wearing his military fatigues, his presence drawing all eyes. The room went silent. Claire, standing on the small stage to toast the sale of the property, froze.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Elias said, his voice carrying through the silent hall. "Thank you for coming to celebrate the 'passing' of the Thorne legacy."
Claire grabbed the microphone, her face a mask of panic. "Elias, honey, stop this. You’re suffering from PTSD. You don't know what you’re doing."
"I know exactly what I’m doing," Elias said. He pulled a remote from his pocket and clicked it.
The massive projector screens behind the stage, which had been displaying photos of the house, flickered. Suddenly, they showed a bank statement. Then an email chain. Then the audio file of Claire laughing about his mother’s suffering.
The room gasped.
"This woman," Elias said, gesturing to Claire, "didn't mourn me. She auctioned me off to the highest bidder."
May you like
Claire screamed, rushing toward the projector, but Elias grabbed her arm—not violently, but firmly. "It’s over, Claire. The authorities are already here. And they have a lot of questions about how the intelligence on my squad’s location leaked two years ago."
The color left Claire’s face. She didn't look like a socialite anymore. She looked like a trapped animal. The lawyer, Henderson, tried to bolt for the door, but federal agents were already blocking the exit.
