Chapter 8 - The Resurrection
The Grand Ballroom of the Four Seasons was dripping in crystal chandeliers and champagne. Seattle’s elite were gathered to donate to the Sterling Foundation.
Julian stood at the podium, looking dashing and appropriately sorrowful in a black tuxedo.
"My beautiful fiancée, Clara, was a light in this world," Julian said into the microphone, his voice cracking perfectly. "Her tragic, sudden passing has left a hole in my heart. But her legacy will live on through our new medical breakthroughs..."
Elias and Reynolds stood in the shadows near the kitchen doors.
"Now," Elias whispered.
The main double doors of the ballroom swung open with a resounding crash.
The room went dead silent.
Clara Vance walked in.
She wore the black gown, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. She looked like an avenging angel stepping out of the grave.
Julian froze at the podium. All the color drained from his face. He gripped the edges of the lectern so hard his knuckles turned white.
Murmurs erupted across the room. "Is that... Clara?" "I thought she died!"
Clara walked slowly, deliberately down the center aisle, her eyes locked on Julian. She didn't blink.
"Hello, Julian," she said, her voice carrying through the silent, massive room.
May you like
Archibald Sterling, sitting at the VIP table, stood up, knocking over his champagne glass. "Security! Get her out of here!"
"I wouldn't do that," Reynolds shouted, stepping out from the shadows and flashing his badge.
