Chapter 4 - The Imposter's Crown
The heavy glass door swung open with a soft, pneumatic hiss, but the sound was drowned out by the low murmur of conversation inside the boardroom. The corporate representatives from Sterling Corp were busy packing laptops into leather briefcases, while Tyler was leaning back in his leather chair, laughing softly at something my mother said.
"Well, once the funds clear," Tyler was saying, his voice rich with smug satisfaction, "we can finally offload that old estate and—"
"And what, Tyler?" I asked.
The words weren't loud, but they carried the weight of an anchor hitting the seabed.
Tyler’s laughter died instantly. He froze, the easy grin locked onto his face like a bad mask. My mother stopped mid-sentence, her tea cup hovering an inch above its saucer. Chloe gasped, dropping her diamond pen; it clattered loudly against the polished mahogany table.
Slowly, Tyler turned his head toward the doorway.
When his eyes locked onto mine, the color drained completely from his face. The man who had been my brother-in-arms, who had shared rations with me in muddy trenches and swore to watch my back, looked as though he had just stared into an open grave.
"E-Ethan?" my mother stammered, her voice cracking into an unnatural falsetto. She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles turning chalk-white. "How... how are you here? You aren't due back for two months."
"Plans change, Mother," I said, stepping fully into the room. The Sterling Corp executives looked between us, sensing the sudden, violent shift in the atmosphere.
"Ethan!" Tyler recovered faster than the women, his professional facade snapping back into place as he stood up, smoothing his jacket. He forced a strained, fraternal smile, holding out a hand. "Man, it’s great to see you! Why didn't you let us know you were back early? We would have thrown a massive welcome party!"
I looked at his outstretched hand. I didn't take it. I just let it hang there in the empty air between us, feeling foolish and pathetic.
"You already threw a party, Tyler," I said quietly, closing the distance between us until I stood right at the edge of the table. "Loud music. Expensive champagne. A lot of strangers in my house."
Tyler’s hand dropped slowly to his side. The smile vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating hardness that I recognized from our military days. That was the face he wore when an operation went sideways and he had to decide who to sacrifice.
"You shouldn't have come here, Ethan," Tyler said, his voice dropping an octave. "You're ruining a very important business transaction."
"My business transaction," I corrected, my voice cold as ice. "Using my signature. My money. My life."
Chloe burst into tears, covering her face with trembling hands. "Ethan, please! Tyler said it was the only way! He said you were unstable, that you wanted to cut us off!"
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"Shut up, Chloe!" Tyler snapped, his mask finally slipping entirely. He turned back to me, narrowing his eyes. "You think you can just walk in here and ruin years of work? The papers are signed, Ethan. Legally, you own fifteen percent of nothing. You're a ghost."
"Am I?" I pulled a folded document from my inner pocket and tossed it onto the table, right on top of the multi-million-dollar merger agreement. "Let's see what the federal authorities have to say about identity fraud, embezzlement, and kidnapping."
