Chapter 79 - The Doppelgänger’s Trap
The rain had cleared by the following evening, leaving the skies over Lake Michigan washed in a cold, starlit navy blue.
Our private lake estate was illuminated by crystal floodlights. High-society elite, dirty politicians, corrupt judges, and Wall Street brokers strolled across the manicured lawns in tuxedos and evening gowns, sipping vintage champagne.
Inside the grand ballroom, Veronica Vance stood near the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the dock, holding a glass of Dom Pérignon. She wore a stunning emerald velvet gown with open-back silk styling—a dress that had been custom-made for me just last month.
Harrison Cross stood beside her, smoking a cigar, chatting with two offshore bankers.
"To the new Chairwoman," Harrison raised his glass with a smirk. "The easiest sixty billion dollars we ever made."
"It wasn't easy," Veronica purred, taking a sip. "Living in her shadow for thirty years was exhausting. But watching her rot in a federal cell makes it all worthwhile."
"Excuse me, sister," a quiet, velvety voice whispered from the shadows behind the velvet curtains of the conservatory.
Veronica froze. Her champagne glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble floor!
She turned slowly. Stepping out from behind the heavy silk drapes was me—clad in an identical emerald velvet gown, my hair styled in the exact same chignon, wearing my mother's real heirloom diamond necklace around my neck.
Harrison Cross pulled a concealed pistol from his tuxedo jacket, but before he could raise it, a shadow moved behind him. Ethan stepped out of the darkness, his hand grabbing Cross's wrist, twisting it upward with a sickening SNAP!
Cross screamed in agony as the gun clattered onto the floor. Ethan slammed him face-first onto the marble table, cuffing his hands tightly behind his back.
"Not a sound, Harrison," Ethan growled into his ear. "Or I finish what I started six months ago."
Veronica backed away, her face pale as a sheet, her eyes wide with terror as she looked at me. "You... you were supposed to be dead in Rockford!"
"You copied my face, Veronica," I walked toward her, step by deliberate step, my heels echoing off the marble like a countdown timer. "You copied my voice. You even stole my dress. But you made one fatal mistake."
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"W-what mistake?!" Veronica stammered, hitting the edge of the glass wall.
"You thought being Chairwoman was about wearing pretty clothes and drinking expensive wine," I leaned in, my eyes burning with an unyielding fire that made her shrink back. "You have my face, sister. But you don't have my soul."
