Chapter 13: The Final Fall
The silence in the grand ballroom was absolute. Every eye shifted from Julianna’s trembling form to Eleanor, and finally to me. The weight of the secret I had carried for years lifted off my shoulders, dissolving into the cool evening air.
"That's impossible," Julianna hissed, her voice rising in frantic desperation as she looked around the room for allies. Board members were backing away from her slowly, their expressions turning from polite warmth to cold disgust. "She died in the fire! Everyone knows the maid died in the fire!"
"I didn't die," I stepped forward, my voice steady and clear, cutting through the cavernous space. I looked directly into Julianna's terrified eyes. "You locked the door from the outside, Julianna. You thought the smoke and flames would finish the job. But I crawled out through the utility shaft, and I spent years hiding because I knew monsters like you would finish what you started if you knew I drew breath."
"Guards!" Julianna screamed, turning toward the perimeter of the room. "Remove them! Remove this impostor!"
None of the security guards moved. They stood like statues, having already received direct orders from Vincent and the federal marshals waiting outside the service exits. Two federal agents in dark suits pushed past the revolving doors, walking with quiet, purposeful strides straight toward the dais.
Arthur Vance, Julianna’s father and a senior board member, tried to intercept them, holding up his hands in protest. "This is an outrage! We are consulting our attorneys immediately. You cannot do this without a court order!"
"We have the court order, Mr. Vance," the lead agent said calmly, pulling a folded document from his coat pocket before turning his attention to Julianna. "Julianna Vance, you are under arrest for corporate arson, conspiracy, and wire fraud. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
The flashbulbs of the paparazzi went off like rapid-fire lightning, capturing every agonizing second of Julianna’s defeat. She struggled briefly as the cuffs were clicked around her wrists, her pristine gown dragging across the spilled champagne on the marble floor—the exact spot where my tray had crashed weeks ago.
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As the agents led her toward the exit, Julianna shot one last venomous glare over her shoulder. "You haven't won," she spat. "The board will never let you take control, Lucia. You're nothing."
"The board already voted, Julianna," Vincent said quietly, slipping an arm around my waist once more. "Unanimously."
