Chapter 3: The Ghost at the Gala
The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City was bathed in golden light, hosting the most exclusive charity gala of the year. Limousines lined Fifth Avenue, discharging billionaires, politicians, and Hollywood elite onto the crimson carpet. Inside, the massive Temple of Dendur was transformed into a glittering sea of diamonds and designer gowns.
Daniel Vanderwald stood near the bar, sipping a glass of rare scotch. He looked exactly the same as he did five years ago—handsome, sharp, and entirely devoid of a soul. Beside him stood Beatrice, looking older, her silver hair now thinning, leaning heavily on a diamond-encrusted cane. They were there to secure a massive investment to save their failing shipping division.
"They say the CEO of Vanguard Holdings is here tonight," Beatrice whispered, her eyes darting around the room. "We need her capital, Daniel. Do whatever it takes to secure a meeting. Charm her. Buy her. I don't care."
"I always do, Mother," Daniel replied coldly.
Across the room, the massive brass doors opened, and the room seemed to hold its breath.
Victoria Vance walked in. She wore a breathtaking, blood-red velvet gown that hugged her curves and flowed behind her like a trail of liquid fire. Her dark hair was slicked back, revealing striking, sharp features and diamond earrings that caught the light like daggers. She exuded wealth, absolute power, and a quiet, terrifying dominance.
Daniel’s eyes locked onto her. A strange, unfamiliar flicker of recognition crossed his cold features, but his brain immediately dismissed it. Eleanor was dead. She had drowned in the Atlantic. This woman was a titan of industry, a billionaire in her own right.
Daniel smoothed his suit jacket and walked confidently across the room, intercepting Victoria as she accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter.
"Ms. Vance," Daniel said, his voice smooth and practiced, flashing a rare, calculated smile. "Daniel Vanderwald. It’s an honor to finally meet the woman who has been aggressively outbidding my firm in the tech sector for the last six months."
Victoria took a slow sip of her champagne, her eyes locking onto his. The urge to drive a steak knife through his throat was overpowering, but her face remained entirely impassive. She had practiced this moment in the mirror a thousand times.
"Mr. Vanderwald," Victoria purred, her voice dripping with dangerous honey. "I’ve heard so much about you. They say you have a... cutthroat approach to business."
"I do what is necessary to survive," Daniel replied, stepping closer, attempting to use his charm. "I believe our companies could benefit from a partnership. Vanderwald Enterprises has a legacy. We have foundations."
"Legacies can crumble, Daniel," Victoria said, stepping perfectly into his personal space, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And foundations built on dead weight have a tendency to collapse. Tell me, do you ever feel the ghosts of your past pulling you down?"
Daniel froze. A cold shiver ran down his spine. For a fraction of a second, he looked into her dark eyes and saw the terrified girl on the balcony. He blinked, shaking his head slightly.
"I don't believe in ghosts," he said stiffly.
May you like
"You should," Victoria smiled, turning away. "Because I just bought fifty-one percent of your company’s debt. We have a board meeting on Monday. Don't be late."
She walked away, leaving Daniel standing in the middle of the gala, the color draining entirely from his face. The noose had been slipped around his neck, and he hadn't even felt it.
