Chapter 9
Downstairs, the grand ballroom was in a state of quiet chaos. The invited guests, sensing that something monumental and disastrous was unfolding behind the scenes, had quietly drifted toward the exits, their luxury cars clogging the long driveway. The crystal chandeliers still burned brightly, casting their warm amber glow over empty tables laden with untouched food and melting ice sculptures.
Evelyn Vance walked down the grand staircase alone. Her dark green off-shoulder gown felt heavy and suffocating. The black gloves she wore felt like physical chains binding her to a past that no longer existed. She reached the bottom step, looking out over the vast, empty room that had once been her kingdom. For decades, she had measured her self-worth by the envy of the people who stood in this room, by the guest lists she curated with ruthless exclusivity, and by the untouchable status of the Vance name.
Now, the guests were gone. Her husband was in federal custody. Her home was a crime scene. And she was utterly, profoundly alone.
Arthur Pendelton hovered near the service entrance, hesitant to approach her, yet knowing he couldn’t simply walk away without reporting the completion of his task. He took a deep breath and walked across the polished mahogany floor, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous silence.
“Mrs. Vance,” Arthur said softly, stopping a respectful distance away. “The girls… they were successfully transported off the estate. They are on their way to the airfield as planned.”
Evelyn didn’t turn around immediately. Her shoulders trembled slightly, the only outward sign of the emotional storm raging beneath her impenetrable exterior. When she finally turned, her face was a mask of cold fury and bitter resignation.
“Did they take anything else, Arthur?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
May you like
“Just what they could carry in their bags,” Arthur replied cautiously. “And… Ms. Lin left something for you on the main reception desk.”
Evelyn walked slowly across the room, her silk gown whispering against the floor. Resting on the silver tray that had earlier held her wine glass was a simple, unsealed white envelope bearing her name written in clean, elegant handwriting. She picked it up with her gloved fingers, sliding out a single sheet of heavy cardstock paper.
