Chapter 3 The Fall of the Golden Girl

The applause for Damien Vance slowly died down, replaced by the soft hum of the string quartet and the clinking of champagne glasses.

Victor stepped away from the microphone, his chest puffed out with pride. He looked like a peacock strutting in front of a lion. He truly believed that partnering with Damien was his greatest achievement. He had no idea that in my past life, Damien had been the one to quietly gut Victor's company from the inside out the moment he realized Victor was a fraud.

But tonight, I wasn't going to wait for Damien to do it. Tonight, I was going to light the match myself.

I took a slow sip of my champagne, the cold liquid doing nothing to cool the blazing fire in my veins. My eyes found Sophia across the room. She was fluttering around the auction display table in the west wing, laughing brightly with the guests, playing the perfect, charming hostess.

Enjoy it while it lasts, sister, I thought, a cold smile touching my lips. In exactly ten minutes, that smile is going to be wiped off your face.

I subtly glanced at my diamond-encrusted watch. It was almost time for the main event: the silent auction.

"Elena, darling!"

I turned. Mrs. Sterling, the wife of the sweaty investor, was approaching me. She was a woman who thrived on gossip, her eyes constantly darting around the room looking for a scandal.

"You look absolutely stunning tonight," Mrs. Sterling said, though her eyes were filled with envy. "That dress is... very bold. Victor must be thrilled."

"Victor loves a spectacle," I replied smoothly, my voice sweet and perfectly pitched. "And tonight is all about making a lasting impression."

Before she could fish for more information, a loud chime echoed through the ballroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Victor's voice boomed over the speakers. "The silent auction will now commence! Please make your way to the west wing. We have some truly magnificent pieces tonight, including a rare Ming Dynasty vase, generously donated by my beautiful wife, Elena."

The crowd began to shuffle toward the west wing, a sea of silk and diamonds. I followed at a leisurely pace, blending into the background, watching the scene unfold like a director watching a play.

As we entered the west wing, I saw Sophia standing proudly next to the display table. Right in the center, illuminated by a spotlight, sat the Ming vase. Or at least, the replica of it. I had carefully swapped it out last night, hiding the real one in a secure vault Victor didn't even know existed.

"Elena, there you are," Sophia said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness as I approached. "I was just admiring your vase. It's so brave of you to donate a family heirloom. Victor was just telling me how much he loves it."

Victor probably told her to convince me to donate it so they could pocket the auction money, I thought bitterly. In my past life, the auction had been a fake-Victor had arranged for one of his shell companies to "buy" the vase, moving the money right back into his own pocket.

"Of course," I said, smiling warmly. "Anything for Victor."

I turned my head, catching the eye of the head of security, a burly man named Marcus. I gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

Marcus nodded back. He was one of the few people in this house who had been loyal to my father, and I had quietly offered him a massive bonus last week to help me with a "small security matter."

Suddenly, the lights in the west wing flickered and dimmed. A sharp, panicked voice cut through the polite chatter.

"Stop! Thief!"

The crowd gasped, turning toward the main entrance of the west wing. Marcus was standing there, holding a terrified-looking waiter by the collar.

"What is the meaning of this?" Victor demanded, his face flushing red with anger as he pushed through the crowd. "Marcus, let him go! You're ruining the evening!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Montague," Marcus said, his voice loud enough to carry across the room. "But I just caught this man trying to slip out the back door. The vault has been tampered with. The diamond necklace-the 'Heart of the Ocean'-is missing."

A collective gasp swept through the guests. The Heart of the Ocean was a legendary diamond, worth millions, supposedly kept in the estate's vault for safekeeping.

Victor's face went pale. "Missing? That's impossible! No one has been near the vault except-" He stopped himself, his eyes darting nervously.

"Except who, Victor?" I asked, stepping forward, my voice trembling with perfectly faked innocence. "Who else has access to the vault?"

Victor swallowed hard. "Only myself, the head of security... and Sophia."

All eyes turned to Sophia. She was standing by the display table, her face suddenly drained of color.

"What?" Sophia stammered, her eyes wide. "Victor, you know I would never-"

"I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding," I interrupted, my voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps the waiter took it. Marcus, search him."

Marcus nodded and roughly patted down the waiter, who was shaking like a leaf. He pulled out a set of keys from the waiter's pocket.

"These are the backup vault keys," Marcus announced. "They were reported missing from the security office this morning."

The waiter burst into tears. "I swear I didn't take them! Someone paid me to leave the back door open! I don't know anything about a necklace!"

"Who paid you?" Victor demanded, stepping forward menacingly.

"I don't know his name! He just gave me the keys and told me to leave the door unlocked at nine o'clock!"

Victor ran a hand through his hair, panicking. "Search everyone! Search the entire house! No one leaves until that necklace is found!"

"Victor, that's absurd," I said, my voice loud enough for the guests to hear. "You can't search our guests. They are people of high society. It would be an insult."

Victor looked trapped. He knew I was right. If he insulted his wealthy investors, he would lose their money.

"Then we search the staff," Victor snapped. "And anyone else who has been near that vault."

"Perhaps we should start with the people who have direct access," I suggested sweetly. "Just to clear their names, of course. I'm sure Sophia wouldn't mind."

Sophia's eyes widened in pure terror. "Elena, what are you doing?"

"Just clearing your name, sister," I said, my smile never wavering. "Marcus, please check the coats in the cloakroom. Just to be thorough."

Marcus nodded and disappeared into the hallway. The room was dead silent, three hundred people holding their breath, watching the drama unfold.

A minute later, Marcus returned. In his hands, he held a velvet pouch. He walked over to Victor and emptied the contents onto the display table.

A massive, glittering diamond necklace fell onto the black cloth. The Heart of the Ocean.

The crowd gasped.

"It was in the pocket of Miss Sophia's coat, Mr. Montague," Marcus said, his voice flat and professional.

Sophia let out a strangled scream. "That's a lie! I didn't put it there! Someone planted it!"

Victor stared at Sophia, his face a mask of shock and horror. "Sophia... how could you?"

"I didn't do it!" Sophia shrieked, tears streaming down her face. She looked around the room at the judging faces of the elite. "Elena! Elena, tell them! You know I wouldn't do this!"

I looked at her, my eyes wide and filled with fake tears. "Oh, Sophia. I... I don't know what to say. If you needed money, you could have just asked me. You didn't have to steal from the family."

The whispers started. Mrs. Sterling was already pulling out her phone, ready to spread the gossip. "I always knew that girl was trouble," someone muttered. "A gold digger, just like her mother."

"Get her out of here," Victor growled, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. He was humiliated. His perfect anniversary party was ruined, and his mistress had just been caught red-handed.

Two security guards grabbed Sophia by the arms. She fought against them, kicking and screaming. "Victor, please! It was a setup! She set me up!"

But Victor wasn't listening. He was staring at the shattered remains of his reputation.

As the guards dragged Sophia toward the door, she passed by the display table. In her frantic struggle, she kicked the leg of the table. The table wobbled, and the "priceless" Ming vase tipped over, crashing onto the marble floor and shattering into a hundred pieces.

The sound of breaking porcelain echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Victor let out a cry of despair. "No! My vase!"

I let out a well-timed gasp, covering my mouth with my hands. "Oh, Victor. That vase was an heirloom from my great-grandmother. It was worth millions."

Victor fell to his knees next to the shattered pieces, his hands trembling. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and confusion. He had lost the diamond necklace (which was fake, though he didn't know it yet), his mistress had been publicly humiliated, and now a priceless heirloom was destroyed.

His perfect night was a disaster.

I stood above him, looking down at the man who had murdered me. A cold, satisfying wave of revenge washed over me.

"Don't worry, darling," I said, my voice soft and soothing, loud enough for the nearby guests to hear. "We can always buy another vase. But we can't buy back our reputation. It's so sad that Sophia turned out to be so... troubled."

Victor looked up at me, a strange, uneasy look crossing his face. For a brief, flickering second, I saw a hint of suspicion in his eyes. But then he dismissed it, too caught up in his own despair to see the snake he had married.

"You're right," he muttered, his voice hollow. "She's always been trouble."

I turned away, hiding my smile behind a sip of champagne.

As the crowd dispersed, murmuring about the scandal, I felt a heavy, piercing gaze on the back of my neck.

I turned my head.

Damien Vance was standing by the grand window, a glass of dark whiskey in his hand, watching me. He hadn't moved a single muscle during the chaos. He hadn't rushed to Victor's side, nor had he looked at Sophia. His eyes were fixed solely on me.

He didn't look away. Instead, he raised his glass an inch, a slow, calculating smile playing on his lips. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was a smile of recognition.

He knows, a voice whispered in my head. He knows I did it.

I held his gaze for a long, heartbeat-pounding moment, my chin raised in silent defiance. Then, I turned my back on him and walked away.

Let him know. Let him watch. I was done hiding.

The game had just begun.