Chapter 6 - A Dangerous GameMarcus slammed his hand down on the override switch.
Instantly, the grand velvet curtains behind Margaret Whitmore shifted as the massive, thirty-foot high-definition LED screens flickered. The promotional video showing the Whitmore family's real estate projects vanished, replaced by a glaring red document header:
OFFICIAL POLICE REPORT: INVESTIGATION INTO THE HOMICIDE OF ELEANOR VANCE (1999).
Gasps erupted across the ballroom.
Margaret froze mid-sentence, her smile rigid as she turned around to look at the screen. The document scrolled automatically, displaying bank transfer receipts showing millions of dollars moving from Eleanor Vance’s estate directly into Margaret’s private Swiss account on the exact day of Eleanor’s death.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Daniel shouted, rushing toward the AV desk at the side of the stage. "Shut it down! Turn the screens off now!"
"I wouldn't do that, Daniel," a voice rang out over the main sound system.
I stepped out from behind the heavy velvet stage curtains, holding a wireless microphone. The emerald-green dress clung to my frame, making me stand out against the white decor of the stage. Around my neck, pinned proudly over my chest, was the gold and emerald brooch.
The entire room went dead silent. Hundreds of cameras shifted from Margaret to me.
"Emily Carter," Margaret hissed, her face contorting with rage as she pointed a manicured finger at me. "Security! Grab her! She’s the thief from the restaurant!"
"I am no thief, Margaret," I said, my voice echoing clearly through every speaker in the room. "And my name isn't just Emily Carter. My legal name is Emily Vance. I am Eleanor Vance’s daughter."
The room erupted into chaos. Reporters began snapping photos frantically. Board members stood up from their tables, staring at the screens in utter disbelief as a audio recording began to play—a wiretapped conversation between Margaret and her late husband discussing how to hide Eleanor’s body.
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Daniel’s face twisted into a mask of rage. Realizing their empire was collapsing in real-time, he drew a small concealed weapon from his tuxedo jacket and stepped directly toward me.
"You should have stayed invisible, bitch," he snarled under his breath.
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