Chapter 2
Thomas Vance leaned against the mahogany bar in the VIP antechamber, swirling a glass of neat bourbon. The amber liquid caught the chandelier light, casting fractured shadows across his sharp cheekbones. At thirty-two, Thomas possessed the same dark hair and piercing gaze as his older brother Julian, though his tailor favored midnight blue instead of stark black. The wedding was supposed to have started ten minutes ago. Thomas checked his wristwatch—a vintage Patek Philippe that had belonged to their father—and frowned. The heavy mahogany door swung open, and Julian stepped into the room. Thomas immediately noted the absence of the bride, the lack of background noise, and the faint, rigid posture of his brother. "Where is she?" Thomas asked, not bothering to look up from his glass. "The priest is getting restless, and Aunt Beatrice is already complaining about the temperature of the hors d'oeuvres." Julian closed the door softly behind him, clicking the antique latch into place. "There won't be a ceremony, Thomas. Not today." Thomas set the bourbon glass down, the heavy crystal clinking sharply against the polished wood. He turned around, his eyes narrowing as he studied Julian’s face. "What do you mean, there won't be a ceremony? You've spent six months planning this ridiculous society spectacle. Elena is in her dressing room with the girl, the guests are seated, and you're standing here telling me to call it off?" Julian walked over to the bar, reached for the crystal decanter, and poured himself a finger of whiskey. His hand did not tremble. "Lily said something to her," Julian said, his voice low and measured. "She twisted a minor reprimand into something darker. Elena, in her infinite capacity for melodramatic panic, believed her. She grabbed the child and walked out through the private corridor." Thomas stared at his brother, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. He knew Julian. He knew the meticulous, controlling nature that governed every aspect of his brother’s life, corporate and personal. "What did the girl actually say, Julian?" Thomas asked, his tone dropping an octave. Julian paused, the glass halfway to his lips. He looked at his brother with a chillingly blank expression. "She said I hurt her. Nothing more, nothing less. But to a mother who has spent her life protecting that child from ghosts, it was enough to blow the whole thing apart." Thomas crossed his arms, feeling a cold knot twist in his stomach. He didn't care about the wedding, but he cared about exposure. "And the guests?" "Tell them there's a family emergency," Julian replied smoothly. "Handle it."
