Chapter 8 - The Viper’s Nest
In the northern capital, inside an opulent French-style villa surrounded by private armed guards, Madame Evelyn Vance sat in a velvet armchair, sipping vintage Earl Grey tea.
At fifty-five, Evelyn possessed the calculating eyes of a viper and the cold demeanor of an executioner. For five years, she had pulled the strings from behind the scenes, using Richard as a disposable puppet to absorb the local Vance assets while funneling hundreds of millions into her foreign shell companies.
The double doors of her study swung open abruptly. Her eldest son, Lucas Vance, stormed in, his face pale and panicked.
“Mother! Have you seen the news from Crestview?” Lucas slammed a tablet down onto the glass coffee table.
Evelyn set her teacup down with delicate, maddening slowness. “Lucas, how many times must I tell you? A true ruler never rushes. What could that idiot Richard have done now? Overspent on Victoria’s ridiculous party?”
“Richard is bankrupt! He’s in federal custody!” Lucas shouted, veins bulging in his neck. “Julian Hayes was arrested two hours ago for the murder of Uncle Arthur! And Crestview Manor... Crestview Manor was seized!”
Evelyn’s aristocratic calm cracked. Her manicured hands tightened around her teacup until the fine china fractured, hot tea spilling across her silk robe.
“What did you say?” she hissed, rising from her chair like an agitated cobra. “Who seized it? The municipal bank?”
“No,” Lucas whispered, his voice trembling. “Damon. Damon is alive. He returned tonight.”
The name sounded like a curse in the opulent room. Arthur’s son. The boy they had framed, bankrupted, and chased across borders until they believed he was dead in the south.
Before Evelyn could speak, the villa’s elderly butler entered the study, carrying an enormous arrangement of white funeral lilies—the traditional flower of mourning.
“What is the meaning of this?” Evelyn snapped, her voice shaking with rage. “Who dared bring funeral flowers into my residence?”
“A courier just delivered them, Madame,” the butler said nervously, presenting an envelope stamped with a roaring lion seal. “It was addressed directly to you.”
Lucas ripped the envelope open, pulled out the card, and read aloud, his breath catching in his throat:
“The dead son has come to collect his inheritance. Prepare seven coffins for your household.”
Evelyn snatched the card, tearing it into tiny shreds with her bare hands, her face twisted with venomous hatred. “Impudent bastard! He thinks because he survived five years in the gutters, he can challenge me? I built this empire on the bones of his weakling father!”
“Mother, Julian Hayes will talk,” Lucas said, sweating through his shirt. “If the federal investigators trace the Swiss transfers back to our offshore accounts, we’re finished!”
Evelyn took a deep, ragged breath, forcing her composure back into place. Her eyes gleamed with lethal malice.
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“He won’t talk if he doesn’t make it to trial,” Evelyn commanded coldly. “Call the Shadow Network. Tell them I will pay twenty million dollars. I want Julian Hayes silenced tonight inside the holding facility. And as for Damon...”
She smiled a grotesque, wicked smile. “Tell them to bring me his sister Maya’s head. Let’s see if he can still talk about revenge when he’s holding her corpse.”
