Chapter 5 - The Fiancé’s Arrival
Before Victoria could formulate a response, the sharp, authoritative chime of the boutique’s front doorbell echoed through the showroom. The automated security lock flashed amber, indicating an override from an authorized biometric scanner. Heavy, purposeful footsteps strode across the foyer before the frosted glass door swung open.
Julian Vance stepped inside, shaking a light mist from his immaculate charcoal-gray overcoat. Tall, impeccably groomed, and radiating an effortless aura of corporate power, his handsome face broke into a charming, confident smile as he spotted his bride-to-be.
“Vicky, darling,” Julian called out, his voice rich and smooth. “I’m running late from the board meeting. Tell me the masterpiece is ready for final fittings. The press wants a sneak peek for tomorrow morning’s digital editions.”
Julian stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the second figure in the room. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the white chef's apron, the scarred visage, and the unnatural, luminous glow of the old woman’s blue robotic eyes. The easy charm vanished from his expression, replaced by a cold, calculating corporate mask.
“Who is this?” Julian asked, his tone dropping into a dangerous, clipped register as he stepped protectively toward Victoria. “And why is a workshop laborer still here after hours?”
Victoria stood frozen, caught between the two worlds—the pristine, wealthy illusion she had known all her life, and the brutal, bleeding reality that had just been unmasked. She looked from Julian’s polished leather shoes up to his sharp, handsome jawline, suddenly seeing the ruthless ambition mirrored in his eyes that she had previously mistaken for strength.
“Julian,” Victoria said, her voice remarkably steady despite the storm raging inside her. “She has something to tell us about the silk.”
Julian didn't look at the dress. His gaze remained locked on the old woman, a flicker of genuine recognition and cold calculation passing through his pupils.
“The silk is fine,” Julian dismissed coldly, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s high-grade material sourced from exclusive deep-sea salvage rights. Cost a fortune. Now, step away from the mannequin, old woman, before I have security haul you out of here.”
The old woman smiled—a terrifying, humorless twitch of scarred lips.
“You bought the salvage rights, Julian,” the old woman said softly, taking a step toward him. “Did you also buy the clearance report that hid the skeletons inside the hull?”
May you like
Julian’s face went completely pale, his polished demeanor cracking for a single, fleeting second before he regained his composure and lunged forward to grab the old woman by the collar.
---
