Point of View: Silas Alexandros
"This is theater, Silas. A pathetic ploy."
Julian spat the words, his composure fraying. He sat amidst the wreckage of the quartz table, surrounded by the weeping remains of crystal and the stunned silence of his board.
I did not offer a seated retort. I prowled the room, my boots clicking with the precision of a ticking clock. "Commerce is built upon the validity of the participants, Julian. And as a 'dead' woman, your sister's shares never legally transferred to you. They remained in biological suspension."
I glided to the table and dropped a black leather folder onto the wet quartz. "Open it."
Julian flipped the cover. I watched the blood drain from his face as he stared at the official death certificate of Sabrina Valerius—stamped by his own hand.
"This proves she is dead!" Julian hissed. "This woman is a fraud!"
"It proves you are a murderer," I countered. "Because the woman standing next to me is the very same person listed on that paper. And she is about to void every contract you have signed in the last three years."
Alistair let out a choked, guttural sound. He didn't look at Julian; he looked at the veiled girl. "I didn't see a body," he whispered. "Julian told me... he told me the currents were too strong."
The lightbulbs overhead flared with a violet intensity. Sabrina's fingers grasped the plum silk of her veil. "Look at me, Julian," she commanded. The smart-glass windows of the boardroom began to crack in a rhythmic pattern, mimicking the sound of a heartbeat. She pulled the veil away.
"Hello, brother," she whispered. "Did you miss me?"