Chapter 3
Arthur Vance, Clara’s father and the primary investor in Julian’s rapidly expanding real estate empire, walked down the center aisle with the slow, deliberate steps of a predator cornering its prey. His tailored charcoal suit seemed to absorb the dim red emergency lighting, and his jaw was locked so tightly a muscle twitched violently near his ear. He didn't look at Julian; instead, he walked straight past him and knelt on the sticky floor beside his sobbing daughter, wrapping a protective arm around her trembling shoulders.
"Clara, baby, get up. We are leaving right now," Arthur murmured softly to his daughter, before snapping his head up to glare at Julian with pure venom.
"Arthur, please, let me explain. It’s a misunderstanding from a decade ago," Julian pleaded, taking a hesitant step forward, his hands raised defensively. "The documents are real, but the context—"
"Shut your mouth, you lying fraud!" Arthur roared, standing up and towering over Julian. "You walked into my company five years ago wearing a cheap suit, pretending to be a self-made bachelor with a brilliant mind for commercial zoning. I handed you my portfolio, I handed you my trust, and most importantly, I handed you my only daughter!"
Clara grabbed her father’s sleeve, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. "Dad... did you know about this? Did you check his background?"
"Of course I ran a background check!" Arthur snapped back defensively. "Or at least, my firm did. But someone—or something—scrubbed every public record associated with his life prior to seven years ago. I thought it was just privacy paranoia from a wealthy upbringing. I never imagined he was hiding an abandoned family!"
Across the room, little Lily picked up the microphone once more, the feedback squealing briefly before she spoke into it with chilling calmness.
"My name is Lily Vance," the little girl announced loudly, her clear voice echoing off the high vaulted ceilings.
The entire room went dead silent. Even Arthur stopped breathing.
"Vance?" Clara whispered, her head snapping toward the child as if she had been physically struck. "Did she just say Vance?"
Julian closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms hard against his sockets as if he could physically push the reality of the moment out of his head. "Don't say it, Lily. Please, just put the microphone down. I'll go with you. We'll talk outside."
"No, we'll talk right here, Uncle Julian," Lily said, tilting her head with innocent cruelty. "Or should I call you Daddy? Because according to Grandma’s legal papers, my mother was your legal wife, and my last name isn't the only thing we share with the man who owns this ballroom."
May you like
Arthur Vance’s face turned an alarming shade of purple as the implication hit him like a freight train. He grabbed Julian by the lapels of his pristine black tuxedo, yanking him forward so hard the white boutonnière ripped apart and fluttered uselessly to the floor.
"What did she just call you?" Arthur demanded, his voice dropping into a terrifying whisper. "Who is that child’s mother, Julian? Who the hell did you marry before my daughter?"
