Chapter 12 - The Dinner of Deception
The private dining room at the Hotel Intercontinental was a vision of old-world European opulence, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over a table set for three. At the head of the table sat Vivian Vance, swirling a glass of vintage Bordeaux, her eyes darting impatiently toward the grand double doors. Opposite her sat Julian, staring blankly at his untouched water glass.
"If this apex investor thinks they can intimidate us by being fifteen minutes late, they are sorely mistaken," Vivian sneered, checking her diamond-encrusted watch. "We offer them a twenty percent buyout above market value, or we crush their algorithms in the morning trading session."
"Just give them what they want, Vivian," Julian said, his voice flat, devoid of the passion that once made him a brilliant CEO. "I don't care about the tech subsidiaries anymore. Let it go."
"Let it go?" Vivian hissed, slamming her glass down onto the linen tablecloth. "That company is our family legacy, Julian! Ever since that pathetic girl and her brat jumped into the river, you’ve been a walking corpse! You need to act like a Vance!"
Before Julian could respond, the heavy mahogany doors swung open.
Two men in dark suits stepped inside, flanking the entrance. Then, a woman walked into the room. She wore a tailored, midnight-blue Alexander McQueen tuxedo suit that exuded power and authority. Her auburn hair was styled flawlessly, and around her neck hung a simple, elegant diamond pendant—the exact pendant Julian had given Elena on their first anniversary.
Vivian froze, her wine glass freezing halfway to her lips. Her eyes widened in absolute, paralyzed horror as the color drained completely from her face. "No... no, that's... that's impossible."
Julian looked up slowly from his water glass. For a second, his brow furrowed in confusion. Then, his breath hitched in his throat. He pushed his chair back so violently it tipped over, crashing onto the Persian rug.
"Elena?" Julian whispered, his entire body trembling as he took a step forward, tears instantly welling in his eyes. "My God... Elena? You're... you're alive?"
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Elena didn't spare Julian a single glance. She walked with calm, measured steps to the center of the table, placing a thick leather-bound dossier directly in front of Vivian’s trembling hands.
"Good evening, Miss Vance," Elena said, her voice smooth, cold, and entirely devoid of fear. "I believe we have some business to conclude. And this time... I brought my own bat."
