Chapter 2
The silence that followed the single word felt heavier than the mahogany table itself. Richard froze mid-reach, his fingers clawing uselessly at the polished wood while the color drained entirely from his flushed face. He knew that voice on the other end of the line, or rather, he knew the ghost it represented. Beatrice pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, her ornate lace collar rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. She looked from Richard to Elena, her eyes wide with a terror that transcended mere family discord. Elena didn't move an inch. She held the phone against her ear, listening to the static-laced breathing coming from miles away, a sound that had been buried under years of legal documents, offshore accounts, and carefully constructed lies. Richard’s aggression dissolved into a cold, trembling paralysis. His suit suddenly looked two sizes too big for him as he slowly straightened his spine, staring at his daughter as if she had suddenly transformed into an alien creature. "Hang it up, Elena," Richard muttered, his voice dropping to a harsh, desperate whisper that barely carried across the room. "We can talk about this. The foundation, the properties, everything can be divided. Just tell me who is on that line." Elena slowly lowered the phone, though the call remained connected, the faint hum of a distant speaker echoing in the quiet dining room. Her brown hair, pulled back tightly in a neat bun, stayed pristine despite the violence that had just occurred. She looked at her father with a chilling neutrality, the blood on her temple now drying into a dark crust. "You spent twenty years telling me he was dead, Richard," she said, using his first name with deliberate cruelty. "You told me he died in that warehouse fire. You lied to the police, you lied to the insurance investigators, and you lied to my mother on her deathbed."
