Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Glass
The interior of the Maybach was a sensory deprivation chamber of leather and cold air. Outside, the city lights of New York streaked past in neon blurs, but inside, the atmosphere was suffocating. Julian's hand was still a vice around Elara's wrists, his thumb pressing into the delicate skin of her pulse point. He could feel her heart hammering—not like the steady beat of a confident heiress, but like a trapped bird beating its wings against a cage.
"I'm waiting, Chloe," Julian said, his voice a jagged edge in the dark. "Who is he? Why does a common thief have the bypass code to your father's private wing? And why does he look like he's seen a ghost when he looks at the security camera?"
Elara's mind was a frantic mess of gears turning. Toby. Her brother, Toby. He had disappeared three years ago after getting tangled up with a gambling debt he couldn't pay. She had spent every spare cent of her meager server's salary on private investigators who told her he was likely at the bottom of the Hudson River.
But there he was. Alive. And he was stealing the only thing that could keep her out of prison.
If she told Julian the truth—that the man was her brother—the entire charade would collapse. Julian would know she wasn't Chloe Vane. He would realize he had been tricked into marrying a waitress, and given his reputation for ruthlessness, Elara wouldn't just be sued; she would vanish. Worse, the five million dollars—her mother's only hope—would be clawed back before the first drop of chemo could hit her mother's veins.
She had to lie. She had to lie better than she had ever lied in her life.
"I don't know him," Elara spat, forcing her voice to go cold and haughty, mimicking the recording she'd watched of Chloe earlier that day. "Maybe he's one of the dozens of people my father has screwed over in business. Or maybe he's a disgruntled ex-staff member. Why are you asking me about security breaches? Isn't that what I pay you for now? Protection?"
Julian's eyes narrowed, the metallic gray turning to flint. He leaned in closer, his broad shoulders blocking out what little light filtered in from the streetlamps. The scent of his sandalwood cologne was overwhelming—an expensive, masculine scent that felt like a trap.
"Protection?" Julian laughed, a low, humorless sound. "You think this marriage is a shield? You signed that contract because you were desperate to hide your little 'mistake' from your father. But if you're playing both sides—if you're helping someone rob the Vane estate while you wear my ring—I will make you wish you had stayed a disgraced heiress."
He let go of her wrists abruptly, the sudden release making her hands throb. He turned his gaze out the window, dismissing her. "We aren't going to the penthouse. We're going to the upstate estate. It's more... secure."
Secure. He meant a prison.
The "upstate estate" was a sprawling fortress of glass and black stone perched on a cliffside. As the gates hissed shut behind them, Elara felt the weight of her choice. She was Chloe Vane now. There was no going back.
The house was cold, filled with modern art that looked like jagged weapons and furniture that lacked any sense of "home." Julian didn't look at her as they entered.
"The north wing is yours," he directed, his back to her as he poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter. "The staff has been briefed. You are not to leave the grounds without my personal security detail. And Chloe?"
Elara stopped at the base of the grand staircase, her silver dress shimmering like scales. "Yes?"
"The doctor will be here at eight tomorrow morning. For the prenatal checkup."
Elara's stomach dropped. The pregnancy. Chloe was pregnant, but Elara wasn't. The moment the doctor performed an ultrasound, the game was over.
"I... I don't want a doctor," Elara said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's too soon. I'm stressed, Julian. Can't it wait?"
Julian turned, his drink held loosely in his hand. He stepped toward her, his silhouette towering in the dimly lit foyer. "You were very insistent on the marriage happening now because of the child. Now you're hesitant? Or is there something about this pregnancy you haven't told me yet?"
He walked up the first two steps, bringing them eye-to-level. He reached out, his fingers trailing down the silk of her bodice, stopping just over her stomach. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her that she hated.
"You're very thin, Chloe," he murmured. "Hardly the glow of a woman carrying an heir."
"I've been sick," she lied, her heart racing. "The stress of the wedding... the scandal..."
Julian's hand moved suddenly, gripping her waist and pulling her forward until her chest pressed against his. His eyes searched hers, looking for the lie. For a second, Elara thought he was going to kiss her again—not the performative kiss from the wedding, but something deeper, more invasive.
"One year," he whispered. "That was the deal. But if I find out there is no child—if I find out you've used me just to secure your inheritance—I will take everything your family owns. Starting with your freedom."
He pushed past her, heading toward his study. Elara stood on the stairs, shivering.
She didn't sleep. She spent the night pacing the massive bedroom, looking at the high-tech security cameras nestled in the corners of the ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Toby's face. Why was he there? How did he know Chloe?
At 3:00 AM, her phone buzzed. It was a burner phone Chloe had tucked into her silk clutch.
[Unknown]: I have the contract. Meet me at the boathouse at the edge of the property in ten minutes. Come alone, or Julian Vane gets a copy of your real birth certificate.
Elara's heart nearly stopped. It was Toby. It had to be.
She moved like a shadow. She changed out of the silver dress into a black silk robe and slippers, creeping past the silent hallways. The house felt alive, the hum of the smart-home technology sounding like a heartbeat. She avoided the main elevators, taking the servant's stairs she had discovered—a habit from her years in catering.
The night air was biting. She sprinted across the manicured lawn toward the dark silhouette of the boathouse. The sound of the lake lapping against the wood was the only noise in the stillness.
"Toby?" she whispered, stepping into the damp, dark interior of the boathouse. "Toby, is that you?"
A figure stepped out from behind a row of kayaks. He was thinner than she remembered, his face scarred and his eyes weary, but it was him. Her brother.
"Elara," he breathed, his voice cracking. "What the hell are you doing in that dress? What are you doing in this house?"
"I'm saving Mom!" Elara ran to him, throwing her arms around him, but he pushed her back, his eyes wide with terror.
"You don't understand," Toby hissed. "You shouldn't have taken this deal. Chloe Vane isn't just some spoiled rich girl. She's in deep with people you can't imagine. And Julian... Elara, Julian isn't who you think he is."
"He's a tech mogul, I know, he's dangerous—"
"No," Toby interrupted, his grip on her shoulders tightening. "He's not just a mogul. He's the one who put me in the ground three years ago. He's the one I was running from."
Elara froze. The "King of Tech" was the man who had destroyed her brother?
"He didn't marry Chloe for love, and he didn't marry her for lithium mines," Toby said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the blue folder. "He married her to get to us. He's been looking for me for years, and he knew I'd come for you."
"But he doesn't know I'm me!" Elara argued. "He thinks I'm Chloe!"
"Does he?" Toby pointed toward the entrance of the boathouse.
Elara turned. Standing in the doorway, framed by the moonlight, was Julian Vane. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing tattoos that looked like ancient, dark ink—nothing like the polished image of a CEO. In his hand was a suppressed pistol.
"You're late, Toby," Julian said, his voice as smooth as silk and twice as deadly. "I expected you at the reception."
Julian stepped into the boathouse, the light catching the barrel of the gun. He didn't look at Toby; he looked at Elara. His gaze wasn't cold anymore—it was burning with a dark, triumphant fire.
"And you," Julian said, walking toward her. "You played the part beautifully. The 'Ice Queen' routine was a nice touch. But did you really think I wouldn't recognize the woman who served me coffee at the Hilton three months ago? The only woman who ever spilled an espresso on my shoes and didn't apologize?"
Elara felt the world tilt. He had known. From the very first moment in the suite, he had known she wasn't Chloe.
"You... you let me go through with it," Elara whispered, her voice trembling. "The wedding. The contract. Why?"
Julian reached her, ignoring Toby's defensive stance. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind Elara's ear, his touch surprisingly gentle, though his words were anything but.
"Because Chloe Vane is a liability who is currently fleeing the country with my competitors' secrets," Julian said. "And you? You are a nobody with a dying mother and a brother who owes me a very large debt. You're much easier to control."
He turned to Toby. "Drop the folder, Toby. Or your sister finds out exactly what happens to 'nobodies' who try to scam me."
Toby looked at Elara, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Elara. I tried to get you out."
He dropped the folder. Julian kicked it aside and looked back at Elara.
"Now," Julian said, "we have a problem. The doctor is still coming at eight. And since you aren't actually pregnant with another man's child, we're going to have to make sure that by the time the next checkup rolls around, you are actually carrying mine."
The cliffhanger hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
"You're a monster," Elara whispered.
"I'm a businessman," Julian corrected, tucking the gun into his waistband. "And we just started a very long-term investment. Welcome to the family, Elara."