Chapter 8 - The Face in the Mirror
The torn trench coat fell away to reveal a man with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and the unmistakable, haunting green-eyed gaze of Julian's supposedly dead brother, Robert. The air seemed to vanish from the room entirely. Julian froze on the shattered glass, his chest heaving, the iron poker slipping from his numb fingers to clatter against the floorboards.
"Robert?" Julian whispered, the name tearing from his throat like broken glass. "No... you're dead. We buried you."
Robert let out a cold, humorless chuckle, brushing a speck of dust from his dark shirt. He didn't look like the broken, desperate man who had fled the estate three years ago. He looked poised, calculating, and utterly merciless.
"Dead is such a convenient legal status, Julian," Robert said, his voice smooth and dripping with venom. "Especially when you need to liquidate family assets without interference from pesky probate courts."
From behind the armoire, Dr. Harris stepped out slowly, his face drained of all color. "Robert Vance... Good God in heaven."
"Save the prayers, Doctor," Robert sneered, keeping his right hand casually tucked into his trouser pocket, right where the heavy signet ring gleamed in the dim light. "You always were too loyal to the wrong brother."
Clara remained cowering by the corner, her eyes darting between the two brothers, realizing the terrifying depths of the conspiracy she had stumbled into.
"Where is Ethan?" Julian demanded, ignoring the banter as anger surged past his shock. He took a step forward, his fists clenched so tightly his fingernails bit into his palms. "What have you done with my son?"
Robert’s smile faded, replaced by a dark, dangerous mask of absolute contempt. "Ethan is exactly where he needs to be to ensure you sign over the shipping empire by midnight. And if you so much as twitch toward that hidden passage again, his room becomes his tomb."
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Before Julian could lunge forward to tackle his brother, a sudden, piercing alarm began to wail throughout the mansion—a shrill, automated klaxon echoing from the lower floors, signaling a total security breach at the main gates.
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