Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Ashford HoldingsThe grand ballroom of the Ashford Plaza Hotel was a sea of glittering chandeliers, expensive black tuxedos, and flowing silk gowns. The wealthiest developers and investors in New York had gathered for the annual Ashford Holdings board dinner, their polite laughter echoing off the high, gilded ceilings.
I stood near the entrance, holding a glass of club soda, my face holding the same distant, grieving expression I had worn for two long years.
"Daniel, my dear," a smooth, familiar voice spoke from behind me.
I turned to see my mother, Evelyn Ashford. She was wearing an elegant, midnight-blue designer gown, her diamond necklace reflecting the brilliant lights of the ballroom. Her silver-gray hair was styled perfectly, and her face held the serene, confident expression of a queen who ruled her kingdom with an iron fist.
"You look tired, Daniel," she said, reaching up to gently pat my cheek. "You must stop letting the past consume you. Ashford Holdings needs a leader who is focused on the future, not a man who is still searching for a ghost."
"I am focused on the future, Mother," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "More than you know."
"Good," she smiled, her eyes narrowing slightly as she analyzed my face for any sign of defiance. "The London investors are extremely interested in the new development project. If we secure their backing tonight, our family's control over the holding company will be absolute."
"And what of my father's original trust agreement?" I asked, taking a slow sip of my drink. "The one that granted a controlling interest to my wife if anything happened to me?"
Evelyn’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a cold glint appearing in her eyes. "Lena is dead, Daniel. The state has already issued the death certificate, and her shares have been legally absorbed back into the corporate treasury. There is no wife. There is only you, and the family legacy I have preserved for you."
"Of course," I murmured, looking past her toward the entrance of the ballroom.
At that exact moment, the heavy oak double doors of the ballroom swung open, and three men in dark, tailored suits walked in. They didn't wear the tuxedos of the investors; they wore the sharp, professional attire of federal corporate investigators. Behind them stood Marcus, the lead investigator from the private intelligence firm I had hired.
May you like
Evelyn noticed them, her brow furrowing in irritation. "Who invited those men? This is a private board dinner."
"I did, Mother," I said, setting my glass down on a passing silver tray. "I thought it was time we introduced some new evidence to the board."
Related Stories
