Chapter 5 - the ghost returns
The silence in the room was now so profound that you could hear the hum of the air conditioning. Celeste stood frozen, her eyes darting between her lawyer and the old man.
Arthur leaned into the microphone. His voice was steady, professional, and entirely devoid of warmth.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Arthur said, the speakers carrying his voice to the furthest corners of the massive ballroom. "There has been a slight misunderstanding regarding tonight’s seating arrangements, and the ownership of this evening's venue."
Celeste’s brow furrowed. "Ownership? Arthur, what are you talking about? I am the Chairwoman—"
"Please," Arthur interrupted, his voice raising just enough to cut her off entirely. "Please welcome back the true founder, and majority stakeholder of the Harrington Trust... Mr. Vincent."
A collective murmur of profound confusion swept through the room. Harrington Trust? The foundation had been in Celeste’s family for three decades. It was the bedrock of their social standing. Who was Mr. Vincent?
But among the oldest men in the room—the retired judges, the elderly real estate moguls, the men who had built the city forty years ago—faces began to drain of color. They whispered the name to themselves. Romano. Vincent Romano. The man who supposedly died in a boat explosion in the nineties. The phantom of the East Coast.
Celeste let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Arthur, have you lost your mind? My father built this foundation. I run this foundation. This man is a nobody!"
Vincent finally moved. He took one slow step forward, stepping over the torn pieces of his invitation. He didn't look angry. He looked disappointed.
May you like
He reached into the inside pocket of his modest charcoal suit. The crowd watched his hand, some bracing as if he might pull a weapon. Instead, he pulled out a small, heavy object.
He held his hand out under the bright chandelier lights.
