Chapter 13: Unraveling the Mask
The silence that fell over the grand ballroom was absolute. The hundred-plus guests seated at the round tables stopped chewing, stopped whispering, their wine glasses suspended halfway to their lips as Jax walked straight to the edge of the stage. He didn't raise his voice, but the heavy, deliberate cadence of his words carried effortlessly through the high-end audio system.
"Pardon the interruption, Mrs. Vance," Jax said, his tone dripping with a dangerous, quiet civility that chilled the air. "I believe you dropped something a few years back. A little girl, to be exact. And a rather significant paper trail of forged probate documents."
Evelyn gripped the sides of the podium so hard I thought the wood might splinter. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, jagged gasps, her practiced poise completely shattered under the burning gaze of the crowd. "Security," she whispered, her voice cracking before she caught herself, forcing a thin, trembling sharpness into her tone. "Remove these intruders at once. This is a private charity event—"
"Quiet, Evelyn," I said.
The words left my lips before I even fully realized I had spoken them. I stepped out from behind Jax's broad frame, moving past the heavy stage curtain and into the full wash of the blinding stage lights. The murmurs erupted into a deafening roar of confusion. I reached inside my coat, my fingers wrapping around the worn, battered spine of Galrriets. I pulled the book out, holding it up so the gold-embossed title caught the light.
"You told me to get out on Route 9 in the freezing rain," I said, my voice echoing across the silent hall, steady and clear. "You said my father's signature on the trust was a clerical error. But it wasn't error, and I wasn't an accident."
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Evelyn stepped back from the podium, her immaculate chignon coming slightly loose as she shook her head frantically. "She's unstable," she stammered, looking out at the stunned faces of the city councilmen and corporate sponsors seated in the front rows. "An impostor... a disturbed girl chasing an inheritance..."
"The only thing disturbed here is the bank accounts you drained," Jax interjected smoothly, pulling a thick manila folder from his inner jacket pocket and tossing it squarely onto the polished wood of the stage. The heavy dossier slid across the mahogany, stopping right against Evelyn’s trembling hands. "Every transfer, every falsified death certificate, and the local county clerk's confession. The state police are already outside, Evelyn. They're waiting to hear your speech on protecting the vulnerable."
