Chapter 4 - The Corpse That Walked
Back on the yacht, the champagne flowed like water. Selene and Marco toasted their complete and utter victory on the upper deck, lounging on white leather cushions.
“By morning, the emergency board meeting will ratify my appointment as Interim CEO,” Marco gloated, swirling his vintage Krug. “And with your power of attorney forged to perfection, all of Elias’s personal holdings transfer directly into our joint trust.”
Selene smiled, resting her head against Marco’s shoulder. The guilt was non-existent; she felt only an intoxicating rush of absolute power. “He was always too rigid, Marco. He built the throne, but we were meant to sit on it.”
The next morning, the grand glass-walled boardroom of Moreau Global was packed. Journalists, shareholders, and board members murmured anxiously. Selene sat at the head of the mahogany table, draped in mourning black designer silk, dabbing a dry eye with a lace handkerchief to project the image of a devastated, grieving widow.
“As we all know, my beloved husband’s tragic accident at sea leaves a profound vacuum,” Selene began, her voice trembling with manufactured sorrow.
Suddenly, the heavy oak double doors of the boardroom swung open with a resounding bang.
Whispers died instantly. Total, suffocating silence gripped the room.
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Walking down the center aisle, impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, dry, composed, and radiating cold, terrifying authority, was Elias Moreau.
Selene dropped her pen. It clattered loudly against the table. Her face drained of all color, her jaw slackening as if she were staring straight at a ghost risen from the deepest trench of the sea.
