Chapter 3 - THE TWIN'S VELVET MASQUERADE
"Clara?!" Julian’s voice cracked in his throat. He set Leo down behind him and rushed to the cot, his trembling hands cupping the woman's icy, feverish cheeks.
The warmth in her eyes was unmistakable. This was Clara—the woman he had loved since their university days, the mother of his son.
"Julian, watch out!" Clara wheezed, her gaze snapping toward the door in terror.
Julian whipped around.
Standing in the vault doorway was the impostor—not Evelyn, but Vivian, Clara’s estranged twin sister who had vanished into debts and scandal eight years ago. In her gloved right hand was a snub-nosed revolver with a matte-black silencer. Behind her stood two corrupt private security guards Julian had hired to watch the perimeter.
"You figured it out sooner than I planned, Julian," Vivian said, her delicate, fabricated accent peeling away to reveal a venomous sneer. "In three more days, the maritime trust transfer would have cleared. You were supposed to die in a tragic yacht fire off the Florida Keys, leaving the entire Vance estate to me."
"Why?" Julian placed himself between the gun and the bed, his body shielding both Clara and Leo. "Clara is your twin! We took you in when you fled your creditors!"
"Took me in?!" Vivian spat, her voice shrill and manic. "She was given the Vance dynasty, private jets, and high-society galas, while I was left to drown in loan sharks! When she had that crash in the Adirondacks, it was almost too easy. A few surgical tweaks, a few forged medical charts, and Arthur Cross helped me step right into her shoes! You slept beside me for three years and never even noticed!"
"And you locked your own sister in a hole beneath the floor?!" Julian’s jaw locked, his knuckles turning white.
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"I kept her alive, didn't I?!" Vivian laughed, a chilling, hysterical sound. "Just enough sedative each morning so she couldn't scream, but enough awareness to hear you and Leo playing upstairs! And now, Julian, all three of you are going to stay in this tomb forever!"
Vivian raised the weapon, her finger curling over the trigger.
