Chapter 11 - The Ghosts of the Past
The transition from a life of fear to one of profound peace was something Clara was still learning to accept.
Six months had passed since Julian dismantled his criminal empire, trading the shadows of the underworld for the bright, demanding world of legitimate philanthropy.
The Elena Vance Youth Foundation was thriving, filled every afternoon with the laughter of children who finally had a safe place to dream.
Clara sat at her desk in the foundation’s administrative office, tracing the diamond on her left hand.
It still felt surreal that the most dangerous man in Boston was now her fiancé, a man who brought her coffee every morning and kissed her like she was the only woman on earth.
A sharp knock on her office door pulled her from her reverie.
“Come in,” she called out, expecting to see one of the teen volunteers.
Instead, Elias stepped into the room.
The stoic driver and former enforcer had transitioned into Julian’s head of legitimate security, though he still carried himself with the lethal grace of a hitman.
“A package arrived for you at the front desk, Ms. Hayes,” Elias said, his voice flat, but his eyes scanning the room with habitual paranoia.
He placed a plain, black velvet box on her desk.
Clara frowned, reaching for it. “Did it have a return address? We usually get donations through the mailroom.”
“No address. A courier dropped it off and left immediately,” Elias noted, stepping closer. “Do you want me to scan it first?”
“I’m sure it’s just a vendor sending a wedding catalog,” Clara smiled, prying the lid open.
Her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn't a catalog.
Resting on a bed of dark silk was a shattered, antique silver pocket watch.
The glass face was completely crushed, and the silver casing was stained with something dark and rusted.
Clara’s blood ran cold as she recognized the initials engraved on the inside of the open lid: E.V.
Elena Vance.
Tucked beneath the broken watch was a small, crisp white card with a single line of elegant handwriting.
"Did you think the past would stay buried?"
Clara dropped the box as if it had burned her.
Elias was at her side in a fraction of a second, his hand instinctively hovering over the concealed weapon in his jacket.
He looked down at the box, his jaw tightening into a furious, rigid line.
“I will call Mr. Vance,” Elias said quietly, his tone suddenly devoid of any professional warmth.
The apex predator had returned to his voice.
May you like
Clara wrapped her arms around herself, the bright afternoon sun suddenly feeling terribly cold.
The shadows they thought they had left behind were stretching out once again.
