Phantom of the Past

Declan finally let a flicker of emotion break through his stony expression at the butler's frantic announcement.

Archibald slammed his heavy cane against the polished marble floor. “What do you mean she is missing? She does not know this place and could be in huge trouble! Stop standing around and get your men to look for her right this instant!”

The Lotus Ballroom spiraled into immediate chaos. Close to fifty security guards flooded the venue, tearing through the elegant crowd in a panicked sweep. The sudden commotion shattered the sophisticated gala atmosphere, leaving the elite guests muttering speculations about Declan's mysterious wife. The massive scale of the search made it abundantly clear just how much Archibald valued the young woman.

Ten breathless minutes passed. The security team regrouped near the grand stage, shaking their heads in defeat. Their frantic efforts yielded nothing.

Camilla seized the perfect opening to manipulate the narrative and humiliate the missing bride. She stepped toward the old man with a sympathetic frown. “Mr. Thorne, perhaps she realized she is not quite the right fit for a man like Declan, so she decided to—”

A horrific clash of piano keys tore through the tense room.

The discordant banging echoed from the grand piano positioned on the ballroom stage. Every single head in the venue snapped toward the noise, including Declan.

A striking woman stood by the instrument, slamming both of her palms onto the pristine keys with reckless abandon. It was Valerie.

A guest pointed toward the stage with a trembling finger. “Old Mr. Thorne, that looks like Mrs. Thorne.”

The grand ballroom erupted into a frenzy of whispers. Rumors of Archibald forcing his accomplished grandson to marry a fool had circulated for days. Seeing her behave like an unruly toddler in the flesh, however, destroyed any remaining shred of the Thorne family's dignity. The solemn birthday celebration rapidly devolved into a circus of harsh mockery and stifled laughter.

Declan tightened his jaw as a dark scowl took over his features. “What are you waiting for? Get her off the stage right now!”

Arthur gestured for two nearby servants and scrambled up the stage steps. “Mrs. Thorne, you cannot play here. Please follow us down and come say hello to Old Mr. Thorne.”

Valerie tilted her head and stared blankly at the sweating butler. She shook her head with exaggerated defiance. “I do not want to! This is fun!”

Cold sweat pooled along Arthur's hairline. He could not physically drag the mistress of the house off the grand stage in front of hundreds of elite guests. His posture slumped as he resorted to desperate pleading. “Mrs. Thorne, I am begging you. Please stop playing the piano.”

Camilla watched the comical display from the floor and stifled a smug laugh.

So this is the wealthy socialite the old man forced upon Declan. She is nothing more than a brainless idiot. She poses zero threat to my status. The position of the true Mrs. Thorne belongs to me.

Camilla suppressed her glee and adopted a gentle tone for the surrounding crowd. “Why don't I go up there and try to talk to her?”

Without waiting for an answer, Camilla glided up the stage stairs with unwavering confidence. She believed she held the upper hand. She approached the piano and reached out to grasp Valerie by the wrist.

“Mrs. Thorne, I think it is time we—”

Valerie spun around to face her.

A blood-curdling shriek ripped from Camilla's throat.

The polite smile melted off Camilla's face, replaced by a sudden mask of blinding terror. Every drop of color drained from her skin. She stumbled backward, tripping over her own high heels as her eyes locked onto the bride's features. During the earlier chaos of the dense crowd, she had never gotten a clear look at Valerie.

Now, she saw her out in the open. To her profound horror, Declan's dim-witted wife was the spitting image of the victim she had dealt with three years ago. The woman she stood facing was the very same person she thought she had murdered, save for a few faint scars framing her cheek. Camilla stood paralyzed in a waking nightmare, breathing raggedly as she stared into the eyes of a ghost.