Applause rang like thunder through the marble hall, but it wasn't the noise that silenced hearts—it was her.
Chloe stood beside her father, radiant in her red gown, her voice steady and commanding. Each word dripped with conviction.
"Tonight, I stand before you not as a girl hidden abroad, but as a woman ready to take her place. My father built an empire from the dust of struggle, brick by brick, vision by vision. To inherit that name is not merely a privilege—it is a responsibility I will not take lightly."
The crowd leaned forward, whispers fading into silence.
"I will not be a shadow of my father," Chloe declared. "I will be a flame of my own—burning brighter, carrying The Freder Empire into the future."
Her words struck every ear, every pride, every doubt. Applause rose again—but not every cheer carried loyalty.
Sandra clapped along with the others, but her attention wavered. Her eyes slid to the side, drawn irresistibly to George.
He stood unmoved, still as stone, his gaze fixed forward. No flicker of awe, no ripple of excitement showed on his face. Yet something about him held a weight heavier than the speech itself. A silence that felt alive, dangerous.
Sandra's chest tightened. She didn't understand why, but she couldn't look away. Everyone else admired Chloe, the flame. Sandra admired the one cloaked in shadow.
At the far edge of the hall, two men in tailored suits lingered near a pillar.
Mr. Alistair Crowne's eyes gleamed like polished steel. Beside him, Mr. Victor Hale swirled wine with a thin, cutting smile.
"A daughter as heir," Crowne muttered. "Edward has grown sentimental. Dangerous."
Hale's smirk curved higher. "Sentiment is weakness. And weakness…" He let the word trail off, the wine catching light like blood. "Weakness gives men like us opportunities."
Chloe's voice rose, fierce and bright:
"This is not the end of an empire. This is its rebirth."
The hall erupted. Champagne glasses clinked, violins soared, thunderous applause shook the walls.
Sandra's eyes stayed on George. Silent, still, unreadable.
She wondered, breath caught in her throat—who are you really?
Then—
A dull thud.
The applause faltered. Gasps sliced the air.
Mr. Edward staggered, his hand clutching his chest, then crumpled to the marble floor.
The chandeliers above glittered coldly as silence fell like a blade.
And the night of celebration fractured into chaos.