Chapter 4: The Predator's Debt
The silence that followed Julian's declaration was heavier than the humid air of the lakefront. Elara felt as though the floor had vanished beneath her slippers. The man she had just legally bound herself to wasn't a victim of a scam; he was the architect of a much larger trap.
"You're insane," Toby spat, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and terror. "You can't keep her here. You can't force her into this!"
Julian didn't even look at him. He kept his gaze locked on Elara, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a possessive slow-motion grace that made her skin crawl. "Force is such a primitive word, Toby. I prefer the term 'incentive.' Your sister wants five million dollars for your mother's treatment. You want to stay alive. I want a wife who won't betray me to my rivals. It's a perfect circle of needs."
Julian signaled with a slight nod of his head. Two shadows materialized from the darkness outside the boathouse—security men, silent and massive.
"Take him to the basement of the guest house," Julian ordered. "Keep him comfortable, but if he tries to leave, break a leg. Just one. I want him to be able to walk at the next family gala."
"No! Julian, wait!" Elara lunged forward, but Julian's arm caught her around the waist, pulling her back against his chest.
"Don't touch her!" Toby screamed as the guards grabbed him. He fought, but he was malnourished and weak. They dragged him out of the boathouse, his heels scraping against the wooden planks until his voice faded into the distance.
Elara slumped in Julian's arms, the adrenaline leaving her body in a cold, nauseating wave. She was alone with the devil.
"Why me?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "There are a thousand women who would kill to be in this position. Why go through this elaborate charade with a waitress?"
Julian turned her around to face him. In the moonlight, his features were carved from granite. "Because those thousand women have families with agendas. They have fathers who want my board seats and mothers who want my secrets. You? You have nothing. You are a ghost. And ghosts are very easy to manage."
He stepped closer, forcing her to back up until she hit the cold, damp wall of the boathouse. He leaned in, his hands pinning her on either side of her head.
"Chloe was a mistake I was forced into by a dying patriarch's whim," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. "But a Vane marriage is a contract that cannot be broken without destroying the stock price. I needed a replacement. You provided yourself. It's a gift, Elara. Don't ruin it by being difficult."
"And the... the baby?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "You said..."
"I said we need to ensure the lie becomes the truth," Julian said. His eyes dropped to her lips, and for a moment, the predatory coldness was replaced by something much more primal. "The world expects a Vane heir. If you want that five million to stay in your bank account, you will provide one. But not tonight. Tonight, you will learn the first rule of being my wife."
"Which is?"
"You never, ever lie to me again."
He led her back to the main house, his hand never leaving the small of her back. It wasn't a romantic gesture; it was a leash.
When they reached the master suite, Elara realized her belongings—the few things she had brought from her small apartment—were already there. Her mother's old sweater, a few worn books, and a framed photo of her and Toby were arranged on the marble dresser of a room that cost more than her entire neighborhood.
"Get some sleep," Julian said, standing in the doorway. "The doctor arrives at eight. I have informed him that the pregnancy is 'delicate' and that we are not ready for a full ultrasound yet. We'll buy a few weeks. In that time, you will learn everything there is to know about Chloe's life. Her friends, her enemies, her favorite designers. You will become her so perfectly that even her own mother won't recognize the difference."
"And if I can't?"
Julian smiled, and it was the most terrifying thing Elara had ever seen. "Then I suppose Toby will have that 'accident' he's been dodging for three years."
He closed the door, and she heard the distinct thump of an electronic lock engaging.
The next morning was a blur of high-stakes theater. The doctor, a man named Dr. Aris who looked like he had been on the Vane payroll for decades, performed a simple blood draw and a physical exam. Julian stood by the window the entire time, watching Elara like a hawk.
"She's a bit underweight, Mr. Vane," the doctor said, packing his bag. "Stress is the enemy of a healthy term. I'll send over a nutritionist and a specialized vitamin regimen."
"See that you do," Julian said.
Once the doctor left, Julian tossed a thick leather binder onto the bed.
"That is your Bible," he said. "Memorize it. By two o'clock, we are hosting a luncheon for the board members' wives. They are coming to 'congratulate' the new Mrs. Vane. In reality, they are coming to see if the rumors of your instability are true. If you fail, the merger fails. If the merger fails, I lose money. And I hate losing money."
Elara opened the binder. It was filled with dossiers.
* Lady Margaret: Head of the Botanical Society. Hates the color yellow. Secretly an alcoholic.
* Sloane Whittaker: Chloe's 'best friend.' Actually slept with Chloe's last three boyfriends.
It was a shark tank, and she was being thrown in covered in blood.
The luncheon was held on the glass-enclosed terrace. Elara wore a structured cream suit that made her look older and more formidable. She had spent four hours with a speech coach Julian had brought in, practicing the slight mid-Atlantic drawl that Chloe used.
"Chloe, darling! You look... different," Sloane Whittaker said, leaning in to press a fake kiss against Elara's cheek. Sloane was a woman made of filler and spite, her eyes scanning Elara for any sign of a crack. "Is it the pregnancy? You seem so much more... grounded. Almost boring."
Elara felt the familiar sting of being looked down upon, but this time, she had the power of the Vane name behind her. She took a slow sip of her sparkling water and looked Sloane directly in the eye.
"It's called maturity, Sloane," Elara said, her voice steady. "I know it's a foreign concept to you, considering you're still wearing the same hairstyle you had in boarding school. Perhaps being a wife and mother requires a level of substance you just haven't reached yet."
A few of the other women stifled gasps. The "old" Chloe would have started a screaming match. This new, sharp-tongued version was much more dangerous.
"Well," Sloane huffed, her face flushing. "We'll see how long this 'new you' lasts once Julian gets bored. We all know he only married you to keep the Vane-Sterling merger from collapsing."
"Is that what you tell yourself at night?" Elara leaned in, her voice a sharp whisper. "That Julian is bored? Because from where I'm sitting, he's never been more attentive. Perhaps you should focus on your own husband's 'attentiveness'—I hear his secretary just bought a new Porsche."
Sloane's face went pale. The "Face-Slapping" was complete. Elara turned away, feeling a strange surge of triumph. For a moment, she forgot she was a prisoner. She felt like a queen.
But then she looked up.
Julian was standing on the balcony above, watching the exchange. He didn't smile, but he raised his glass of scotch in a silent toast.
That night, after the guests had left and the house had returned to its echoing silence, Elara found herself in the library. She was looking for any information on the Vane-Sterling merger when she found a hidden drawer in the mahogany desk.
Inside was a single photograph.
It wasn't a photo of Chloe. It was a photo of a woman who looked exactly like Elara—but it wasn't her. The woman was standing in a field of sunflowers, laughing. On the back, in elegant, feminine script, were the words: To my J. Always and forever. – E.
"E?" Elara whispered.
"Her name was Elena," a voice said from the shadows.
Elara jumped, dropping the photo. Julian stepped out from behind a bookshelf, his expression unreadable.
"She was my first wife," Julian said, his voice devoid of emotion. "And she died because of the Vane family. Do you want to know why I really chose you, Elara?"
Elara looked from the photo to the man she had married. The resemblance was more than uncanny—it was identical.
"You didn't just want a ghost," Elara realized, her heart sinking. "You wanted her back."
"I wanted a second chance," Julian said, stepping into her space. "And you are going to give it to me. Whether you want to or not."
Suddenly, the house's alarm system began to wail. A red light strobed through the library.
"Sir!" a security guard burst in, breathless. "The guest house! There's been an explosion! Toby Vance is gone!"
Julian's face transformed into a mask of pure fury. He grabbed Elara by the arm, dragging her toward the door. "If he's escaped, Elara, the deal is off. And your mother's clinic just lost its funding."
But as they reached the hallway, a woman stepped out of the shadows, holding a detonator. She was dressed in tactical gear, her face covered by a mask, but when she spoke, Elara's blood turned to ice.
"He didn't escape, Julian," the woman said, pulling off the mask to reveal the real Chloe Vane. "I took him. And if you want him back alive, you're going to give me exactly what I want."