Chapter 46 - Ghosts from the Past
Genevieve’s face turned pale, then contorted into a mask of pure fury. "Victoria Vance. How dare you set foot in my house?"
"Your house?" I chuckled softly, walking down the center aisle while every camera in the room turned toward me. "Genevieve, you bought a house built on sand. The six-billion-dollar short option I just executed isn't just stock manipulation. It’s backed by the original land deeds of your European banking subsidiaries—deeds your grandfather pledged to my family thirty years ago."
Archibald Sterling leaned heavily on his cane, his weathered face darkening. "Nonsense. Those deeds were burned during the fall of the European coalition!"
"They were hidden," a dark, unfamiliar voice echoed from the heavy double doors at the back of the room.
Everyone turned. Standing at the threshold was a tall man clad in a dark tactical suit, his face scarred along the jawline, his dark eyes identical to Ethan’s.
Ethan froze, his lips parting in sheer disbelief. "Marcus...?"
Marcus—Ethan’s older brother, the brother we all believed was assassinated eight years ago in London—walked into the ballroom, holding a black leather briefcase. Behind him stood six armed federal agents from the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network.
"Hello, little brother," Marcus said, glancing at Ethan with a solemn nod before turning his gaze to Archibald. "It took me eight years to crawl out of the grave you put me in, Archibald. But I brought the receipts."
The ballroom erupted into absolute chaos.
Guests began shouting and fleeing toward the exits as federal agents moved in. Genevieve grabbed Ethan’s arm, pulling a small silver firearm from her purse, pressing the barrel against Ethan’s side.
"Nobody moves!" Genevieve screamed, her eyes wild with hysteria. "If anyone takes a step, I put a bullet through his heart!"
"Genevieve, drop the gun," I said, stepping directly into her line of sight, completely ignoring the barrel aimed at my husband. "It's over. Your board is liquidated. Your assets are seized. If you pull that trigger, you don't just lose the empire—you die in a federal prison."
Ethan looked at me, his blue eyes burning with an intense, fierce pride. Slowly, without Genevieve noticing, Ethan shifted his weight, his hand closing over her wrist with lightning speed.
CRACK.
With a swift, practiced military disarm, Ethan twisted her wrist, forcing the gun to clatter onto the marble floor, kicking it away. Genevieve shrieked as federal agents tackled her to the ground.
Ethan stepped over her, crossing the distance between us in three long strides. He grabbed my face in his hands, pulling me into a fierce, breathless kiss right in the middle of the crashing gala.
"You crazy, brilliant woman," Ethan whispered against my lips, his voice shaking with emotion. "I told you to run."
May you like
"And when have I ever listened to you?" I smiled through the tears welling in my eyes.
"Never," Ethan murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. "Thank God, never."
