Chapter 2: The Man Who Thought He’d Buried Her
Julian spun around, his face turning pale as he realized the room was trapped. He stormed over to Elara, his voice loud with anger. “What the hell did you do?” he yelled, his hands grabbing her arm so tight she could feel his fingers digging into her skin. “You can’t lock us in here-my father owns this hotel!”
Elara pulled her arm free, her eyes never leaving his. “Your father sold the hotel last year to a group of investors,” she said, her voice flat. “I’m one of those investors.”
Julian laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “You? A housekeeper? You can’t afford a hotel room, let alone a share of this place.”
Elara nodded toward a man standing in the back of the ballroom, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his left eyebrow, wearing a plain black suit and no name tag. “That’s my attorney,” she said. “He’s been handling the sale of the hotel since last month. I’ve been living in the penthouse suite for the past two weeks, getting to know the property before the gala.”
The guests stared at her, their mouths hanging open. A few of them recognized the scarred man: he was Jake Carter, a former FBI agent who’d left the bureau after exposing a corruption scandal involving Chicago’s most powerful real estate developers. No one had seen him in public in over two years, and no one knew why he’d suddenly reappeared at the gala.
Julian’s face turned the color of ash. He’d spent the past five years trying to erase Elara from his life, to make sure no one ever found out about the night he’d destroyed her mother’s reputation. He’d heard that Elara’s mom, Clara, had died of a drug overdose in a motel room in 2018, and he’d thought that was the end of it. He’d never thought she’d come back, not after all the things he’d done to her.
“You think this is over?” Julian yelled, his voice cracking. “You’re just a bitter loser who can’t get over the fact that I moved on with my life!”
Elara stepped closer, her eyes hard. “My mom didn’t die of a drug overdose,” she said, her voice quiet but powerful. “You killed her. You paid a corrupt detective to plant drugs in her hotel room, and you made sure the police ruled it an accident. You thought you’d gotten away with it, but you forgot one thing.”
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She pulled out a stack of printed documents from her clutch, scattering them across the floor. “This is the original police report from the night your dad fell off the balcony,” she said. “The one you tried to destroy. It proves you pushed him, and it proves you paid the detective to frame my mom for your crimes.”
The guests gasped. A few of them pulled out their phones, taking photos and videos of the documents, while others turned to stare at Julian, their faces filled with disgust. Marcus Hale stepped away from him, his hand covering his mouth. “I had no idea,” he said, his voice shaking. “I thought you were just a rich jerk, not a murderer.”
