Chapter 4 - The Shadow Twin
Marcus whirled around so fast he nearly lost his footing on the polished floor. The corridor behind him, which led to the executive suites, was bathed in soft, amber light. Standing in the doorway was a man who looked so strikingly familiar that Marcus backed away until his hip collided sharply with the reception desk.
Standing there was another middle-aged man. He wore an immaculate navy blue bespoke suit with a gold silk tie—identical down to the fabric grain and stitch count to the clothes Marcus was currently wearing. But while Marcus looked like a anxious middle-manager, the man in the doorway radiated an aura of quiet, immense power. Most chilling of all was his face: it was the exact, absolute mirror image of Marcus Vance.
They were identical twins.
Marcus gasped for air, his face draining of all color until he looked like a corpse. "Arthur... no. You're dead. You died in the offshore crash ten years ago!"
Arthur Vance, the twin brother whose existence had been erased from corporate history, stepped forward into the bright light of the lobby. Behind him walked four tall men in tailored dark suits, their ears fitted with subtle communication earpieces—high-tier private security contractors.
"I didn't die, Marcus," Arthur said smoothly, his voice a deeper, richer version of Marcus's thin tone. "I simply retired to the shadows to monitor how you managed the empire our father built. And for ten years, I watched you turn the Vance Healthcare Syndicate from a sanctuary of healing into an extortion racket that preys on the dying."
Arthur stopped beside the old man in the torn coat. With surprising reverence, Arthur bowed his head slightly toward the dirty, blood-stained stranger.
"The test is complete, Lord Sterling," Arthur said respectfully.
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. Lord Sterling. Alexander Sterling was the legendary, reclusive titan who owned seventy percent of the global healthcare conglomerate that parented St. Jude’s. He had vanished from public life fifteen years ago, rumored to be living as a recluse on a private island, or perhaps already dead. Yet here he stood, disguised as a penniless, bleeding vagrant in his own hospital lobby.
Sterling pulled a clean silk handkerchief from his ragged pocket and wiped the fake, red-pigmented gel from his forehead, revealing completely unblemished skin beneath. The purple bruise was nothing more than high-grade theatrical makeup.
"Ten years ago," Sterling said, his grey eyes locked onto Julian, "when your father was framed for the collapse of the Sterling-Vance BioTech initiative, his vast wealth was stripped away, his reputation ruined, and his children left to rot in poverty. Your father died in prison, Julian. But before he passed, he swore to me that his son possessed a moral compass that no amount of tragedy could break."
Sterling turned his gaze to Marcus, whose eyes were wide with terror as he looked back and forth between the twin brother he had betrayed and the sovereign owner of the empire he served.
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"I came here tonight to see if the young Vance heir would sacrifice his own survival to save a worthless old man," Sterling continued quietly. "Or if he had inherited the rotten, greedy soul of his uncle Marcus."
On the desk terminal, the red screen suddenly cleared, replaced by a single, bold white phrase that illuminated the dark glass: HE PASSED.
