Chapter 3 - Shadow of the Past
Z
The penthouse in Mayfair was far too big for just two people. High ceilings, panoramic glass walls looking over a misty London skyline, and quiet, polished marble floors that echoed with every step. It felt less like a home and more like a museum dedicated to Arthur’s solitary life.
For two weeks after the will reading, Chloe and I rarely left the apartment. The British tabloids had gotten wind of the story, and the headlines were merciless: "THE NURSE WHO INHERITED AN EMPIRE," "GOLD-DIGGER OR GUARDIAN ANGEL?", "THE 80-MILLION-POUND PATIENT." Reporters swarmed the entrance of the building like vultures, flashing cameras every time a delivery driver entered.
Chloe spent her days in Arthur’s study, surrounded by stacks of financial documents, corporate ledgers, and legal files. Though she had inherited controlling interest in Vance Global Logistics—a massive shipping and supply chain network spanning three continents—she had no formal business background. Yet, she worked twelve hours a day, reading every report, trying to understand the empire Arthur had left in her hands.
"You need to eat, sweetie," I said, placing a bowl of hot chicken soup on the massive mahogany desk in front of her.
Chloe rubbed her red, bloodshot eyes and sighed. "I can't stop, Mom. If I mess this up, five thousand people lose their jobs. And if Vance Logistics fails, Julian and Victoria win. They're waiting for me to drown."
"You don't have to carry the whole world on your shoulders," I said softly, sitting across from her. "Arthur didn't give you this company to punish you. He gave it to you because he trusted your heart."
"My heart won't help me read a balance sheet, Mom," she muttered, looking down at a complex spreadsheet detailing container port leases in Rotterdam.
Before I could answer, the study door clicked open. Mark Harrison, Arthur’s former head of security—a broad-shouldered man with a scarred jaw and graying hair—stepped inside. His expression was dead serious.
"Mrs. Vance," Mark said, addressing Chloe with crisp professional respect. "We have a problem."
Chloe set her pen down. "What is it, Mark?"
"The photo journalists outside aren't the only ones watching this building," Mark said, walking over to the window and pulling the shear curtain back a fraction of an inch. "Julian and Victoria have hired Apex Risk Management. It’s a private intelligence firm staffed by former military contractors. They’re running a full-spectrum surveillance operation on you."
My blood ran cold. "Surveillance? Is that legal?"
"They don't care about legal," Mark replied bluntly. "They're trying to dig up dirt. Anything they can use to character-assassinate Chloe, force a public scandal, or prove she had an ulterior motive before marrying Arthur. They’re tapping into public records, tracking your old bank accounts from home, and interviewing anyone who ever knew you."
Chloe frowned. "Let them look. We have nothing to hide. My life before London was nursing school, studying, and worrying about Mom's health."
Mark hesitated, looking between Chloe and me. "That’s not entirely true, Mrs. Vance. They’ve reached out to someone in your hometown."
A cold spike of anxiety pierced my chest. "Who?"
Mark pulled a tablet from his coat and tapped the screen, displaying a mugshot of a man in his late twenties with dark, sunken eyes, a jagged cheek scar, and a bitter, aggressive posture.
"Ethan Vance," Mark said. "No relation to Arthur, despite the surname—pure coincidence. But according to local police records back in your state, Ethan was your ex-boyfriend from three years ago. He was convicted of aggravated assault and intent to distribute narcotics. He was released on parole four weeks ago."
I felt the air leave my lungs. Ethan.
Three years ago, before Chloe left for London, Ethan had been a nightmare we thought we’d barely escaped. He was charismatic at first, but quickly revealed himself to be possessive, violent, and involved in local organized crime. When Chloe tried to break up with him, he had threatened to burn down our house. It was only after I went to the sheriff and gave evidence regarding his drug stash that he was finally locked up.
"Ethan..." Chloe whispered, her hand trembling as she touched the screen. "Why are they talking to him?"
"Victoria’s lawyers offered him two hundred thousand dollars for an on-camera interview," Mark said grimly. "He’s claiming that you and he were still together when you moved to London. He’s going to tell the tabloids that your entire move was a planned scam—that you targeted Arthur on purpose to steal his money and share it with Ethan once he got out of prison."
"That’s a complete lie!" I shouted, slamming my hand on the desk. "Chloe broke up with him months before she left! He beat her, he stalked her, he almost ruined her life! He’s a criminal!"
"It doesn't matter if it's a lie, Elena," Mark warned quietly. "In the court of public opinion, a scandal like this will destroy the stock value of Vance Logistics. The board of directors is already terrified of having a twenty-two-year-old nurse as their majority shareholder. If this story breaks on the Sunday news, the board will use an emergency clause to vote Chloe out as Chairwoman and force a sale of her shares at a fraction of their value."
"Which is exactly what Julian wants," Chloe realized, her voice tightening. "He’ll buy the distressed shares through a shell company and take control."
"Precisely," Mark nodded. "And it gets worse. Ethan landed at Heathrow Airport two hours ago. Victoria paid for his flight and booked him into a luxury hotel downtown. They’re holding a press conference tomorrow morning."
The room fell completely silent. The shadow of our past—the violent trash we had tried so hard to leave behind in America—had been bought and imported to London specifically to destroy us.
Chloe leaned back in her chair, staring out at the rain. For a moment, she looked like the frightened girl who used to cry in her bedroom after Ethan screamed at her outside our door. But then, I watched a subtle shift occur in her eyes. The fear vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve that looked astonishingly like Arthur’s.
"Mark," Chloe said smoothly.
"Yes, Mrs. Vance?"
"Ethan isn't an intelligence operative. He’s an idiot with a drug habit and an ego," Chloe said, standing up from her desk. "He thinks he’s coming to London to play with the big boys and get rich."
"What are you thinking?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Victoria thinks she bought a weapon," Chloe said, a faint, dangerous smile touching her lips. "She doesn't realize she just bought a ticking bomb. Mark, contact Mr. Sterling. Tell him I need a meeting with Ethan tonight—before Victoria’s press conference. Off the record."
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"Chloe, no!" I protested, grabbing her arm. "He’s dangerous! You don't know what he's capable of!"
"I know exactly what he's capable of, Mom," Chloe said, turning to me with eyes as hard as flint. "He’s capable of anything for a quick fix and a buck. Which means he’s incredibly easy to manipulate. It’s time I stop playing defense."
