Chapter 2: The Ghost at the Gala
The host, Julian, froze mid-toast. His champagne flute slipped from his fingers, shattering near his polished oxfords. The color drained from his face until he looked like a statue. The woman in the maid’s uniform was Elena—his wife, the woman who had died in a horrific car fire three years ago. The woman whose funeral he had attended. The woman whose life insurance policy had paid for this very mansion.
The guests didn't whisper; they went mute. Vanessa, sensing her world crumbling, shrieked, "Security! Remove this lunatic! She’s impersonating a dead woman!"
But the security guards, who had worked for the estate for years, didn't move. They were staring at Elena with a mix of awe and terror. They knew the woman who had truly run this household before the "accident." Elena didn't look like a ghost. She looked like a woman with a plan.
