Chapter 11 - Queen of ThornsTwenty-four hours later, news headlines across the globe screamed in bold red lettering:
"BILLIONAIRE JULIAN VANCE KILLED IN HELICOPTER EXPLOSION OVER THE MEDITERRANEAN. VANCE GLOBAL STOCKS PLUNGE TO HISTORIC LOWS."
In a hidden luxury penthouse in Paris, Victoria Vance sat on a velvet couch, sipping champagne. Her face was healed from the scratches of the mansion raid, her posture back to its arrogant elegance. Standing across from her was Countess Sophia, her arm in a sling.
"So, the great Julian Vance is dead," Victoria purred, looking at the news report. "It's about time. With Julian dead and Alexander hiding in the shadows, Vance Global assets fall to the surviving spouse... me."
"Don't be naive, Victoria," Sophia said coldly, rubbing her bandaged shoulder. "Alexander survived Julian's attack in Monaco. He’s already arriving in New York to claim the master security codes. You are only valuable because of your legal marriage documents."
Victoria smiled, a sharp, venomous look in her eyes. "Alexander is a scarred lunatic. He thinks he’s the mastermind, but he forgot who signed the prenuptial agreements."
She pulled out a golden flash drive. "I cloned Julian's master financial keys six months ago. I don't need Alexander. And I certainly don't need that pathetic baby."
Suddenly, the lights in the luxury penthouse flickered and died.
The ambient streetlights from the Parisian streets cast long, haunting shadows across the velvet living room.
"What happened to the power?" Sophia asked, pulling a silver pistol from her purse.
A soft, familiar voice echoed from the dark hallway behind them—a voice that sent Victoria’s glass shattering onto the hardwood floor once again.
"You always were too greedy for your own good, Victoria."
From the shadows stepped Julian Vance. He was alive, uninjured, wearing a dark tactical coat, his eyes shining like a predator in the night. Beside him stood Maria, holding a heavy suppressed assault rifle aimed straight at Victoria’s heart.
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Victoria fell back against the sofa, her voice choking in her throat. "No... no! You died in the helicopter!"
"A ghost plane, expensive deepfake video, and five bribed news networks," Julian said smoothly, stepping into the dim light. "It cost me twenty million dollars to make the world believe I was dead for twenty-four hours. Worth every penny to see who would crawl out of the shadows to claim my corpse."
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