THE DIAMOND BRACELET BELONGED TO A GHOST NO ONE DARED TO SPEAK OF

Julianne Vance stood framed in the shattered doorway of room 404, her sparkling silver sequin gown torn at the hem and stained with dark smudges of plaster and dust. Her elaborate blonde hair was coming undone, falling in wild strands around her face, but her eyes were locked onto Rene with a predatory, unhinged gleam. In her right hand, she casually held a heavy brass paperweight, weighing it up and down in her palm with rhythmic menace.

“You really should have stayed downstairs serving canapés, little waitress,” Julianne purred, stepping fully into the room and blocking the only exit. “Curiosity is a fatal flaw in people of your social standing.”

Rene stood frozen beside the glowing laptop, her hand still hovering inches from the keyboard. She forced her breathing to remain slow and measured, consciously ignoring the frantic beating of her own heart. Behind Julianne in the hallway, Eleanor Copley was entirely obscured by the shadow of the doorframe, completely hidden from the socialite’s line of sight.

“You’ve been draining the Copley trust for years, Julianne,” Rene said, her voice remarkably steady, carrying no trace of fear. “Every penny of the charitable foundation has been funneled into offshore shell companies to fund your lifestyle.”

Julianne let out a sharp, grating laugh that echoed off the high ceiling. “And who is going to stop me? Arthur is downstairs answering to the police for corporate tax evasion. By the time morning comes, this hotel will belong to me, lock, stock, and barrel, and you—whoever you think you are—will be found wandering the streets as a delusional vagrant trespassing in a condemned building.”

Julianne took two slow steps closer, raising the heavy brass paperweight slightly. “Step away from the desk, Rene. Or whatever your real name is.”

Rene didn’t move. Instead, her fingers brushed the trackpad of the laptop, waking the screen from its sleep mode. A progress bar flashed in the center of the display: Asset Transfer: 94% Complete.

Julianne’s face twisted in sudden panic. “Don’t you dare!” she screamed, lunging forward with unexpected speed, abandoning all pretense of aristocratic composure.

At that exact instant, from the shadows of the hallway, Eleanor Copley’s voice rang out, sharp as a whip.

“Drop it, Julianne.”

Julianne froze mid-stride, her eyes bulging as the elderly woman rolled her wheelchair past the shattered doorframe and directly into the dusty suite, her cloudy eyes fixed on the younger woman with absolute authority.

“Eleanor?” Julianne whispered, her voice cracking with disbelief. “You… you shouldn’t even be able to reach this floor. The elevator requires an executive security override!”

“Did you really think I spent thirty years sitting in that wheelchair watching you loot my family’s legacy without keeping a spare key of my own?” Eleanor asked coldly, reaching into the pocket of her blue dress and pulling out a heavy, identical brass key.