Chapter 6 - The Phantom Twin
The flashlight beam trembled in Julian’s hand as the identical face of his supposedly dead brother stared back at him from the terrace shadows. Marcus Vance looked healthier, sharper, and far more ruthless than Julian remembered from the supposed day of the fatal crash five years ago. The silver briefcase in Marcus’s hand caught the harsh glare of the tactical lights, gleaming like a trophy of deception.
“Surprised, brother?” Marcus asked, his smile widening into a mocking smirk as he stepped closer into the illumination. “Father always liked you best, but he trusted me with the real keys to the vault. Did you really think a simple offshore audit could take down an empire I spent half a decade building from the ashes?”
Julian’s breath hitched, the veins in his neck bulging as rage instantly eclipsed his shock. “You bastard. You let me take the blame for the embezzlement. You let the board destroy my reputation while you hid behind a ghost story!”
“Business is business, Julian,” Marcus replied casually, adjusting his silver cufflinks with his free hand.
Clara stood frozen against the stone pillar, her mind racing as the puzzle pieces violently clicked into place. The shell company, the forged signatures, the missing diamonds—it wasn’t just Vivienne’s betrayal; it was a deep family conspiracy executed by a man who had faked his own funeral. She looked between the identical brothers, realizing she was standing in the crosshairs of a ruthless corporate war.
“You’re insane,” Clara whispered, clutching her backpack straps so tightly her knuckles turned white. “You’re both insane.”
Marcus slowly shifted his gaze from his brother to Clara, his eyes narrowing with cold calculation. “Ah, and who is this? The new cleaning lady? Or is she Julian’s latest accomplice in this pathetic attempt at a coup?” Marcus took another step forward, his polished shoes clicking softly against the damp stone. “You picked the wrong side, sweetheart. My security team is currently locking down the entire perimeter. No one leaves this estate alive until those Cayman documents are back in my possession.”
Before Julian could lunge forward to tackle his brother, a loud mechanical click echoed from the dark perimeter wall behind Marcus. The red laser dot of a sniper rifle suddenly appeared directly on Marcus’s chest, painting a tiny circle of crimson against his black suit jacket.
Marcus froze, his arrogant smirk instantly vanishing as a deep, metallic voice boomed from the darkness of the overhead oak trees.
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“Drop the briefcase, Marcus Vance. Federal custody starts right now.”
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