Chapter 2: The Arrival of the Ghost
Before Richard could even speak, the heavy double doors of the penthouse swung open.
In walked Thomas Vance—Regina’s biological father. He wore a worn-out leather jacket and faded jeans, looking entirely out of place in the opulent penthouse. Thomas was a smooth-talking opportunist who had spent his life dodging child support and chasing failed get-rich-quick schemes. He had a smug, arrogant grin plastered across his face, entirely unaware of the massive financial trap he was walking into.
"Hey there, princess," Thomas boasted, walking past Richard without a glance and wrapping his arms around Regina. "A real father belongs at the head of the altar. I'm here to reclaim my rightful place in our family legacy."
Regina beamed, looking at Richard with a triumphant, mocking sneer. "You heard him, Richard. You're just the stepfather. Your name isn't on my birth certificate. It’s bad luck to have an outsider walk me down the aisle. You can leave now. We’ll send you photos from the reception."
Helen nodded in agreement, waving her hand dismissively. "Be reasonable, Richard. Thomas is her blood. It's only right. Don't make a scene and ruin her perfect fairy-tale day."
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Richard didn't scream. He didn't beg. He didn't let a single tear show on his face. The blind loyalty and unconditional love he had carried for twenty years instantly hardened into a cold, clinical, and absolute fury. His stepfather persona died right there on the Persian rug, replaced by the ruthless corporate architect who had built an empire from nothing.
"You're right," Richard said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm baritone that made the air in the penthouse feel instantly sub-zero. "Blood is thicker than water. And it’s time for blood to pay the bill."
