Sunlight streamed into the CEO's office at the top of the Randall Tower, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
Auguste sat at his desk, signing documents. He looked tired. The insomnia had been bad last night. The melody of that lullaby had played on a loop in his head, keeping him awake.
The door opened. Justus walked in. He wasn't smiling.
He held a thick black dossier in his hand.
"You're not going to believe this," Justus said, dropping the file on the mahogany desk.
"You found her?" Auguste asked, not looking up.
"I found her," Justus said. "And you know her."
Auguste paused. He looked at the file. He flipped it open.
The first page was a photo taken from the security footage at La Rive. The woman in the red dress.
The second page was an obituary.
Ivy Hogan. Beloved Daughter and Fiancée. Lost at Sea.
Auguste froze.
"Ivy Hogan?" he said slowly. "Braeden's ex? The one who died?"
"The dead one," Justus confirmed. "Death by drowning. No body found. Empty casket funeral."
Auguste looked at the recent photo. She looked very alive. And very different from the meek girl in the obituary photo.
"She has a son," Justus added. "Albion Hogan. Three years old."
Auguste flipped to the birth certificate copy.
Father: Unknown.
A strange spike of irritation hit Auguste's chest. Unknown? A son, born roughly three years ago. The timing was... a coincidence. It had to be. The woman from that night was gone, and this one belonged to Braeden's past. Still, the thought lodged in his mind like a splinter of ice.
"So she faked her death?" Auguste mused.
"Or someone tried to kill her," Justus suggested darkly. "The family didn't exactly mourn her. Braeden was engaged to her sister two months later."
Auguste tapped his finger on the desk. This complicated things. She was technically family. She was his nephew's ex-fiancée.
"Where is she now?" Auguste asked.
"She's an actress," Justus said. "Or trying to be. She's auditioning for The Red Palace today."
Auguste checked his watch. 8:45 AM.
"That's our production," Auguste noted.
"Yes. Braeden is running the casting."
Auguste stood up abruptly. He buttoned his suit jacket.
"Clear my schedule," he ordered.
Justus blinked. "For what? You have a meeting with the Japanese investors."
"Cancel it," Auguste said, walking toward the door. "I'm going to the auditions."
"You never go to castings," Justus called after him.
"I do today."
The waiting room of the studio was packed with nervous women muttering lines to themselves.
Ivy stood near the window, wearing a simple black dress that highlighted her pale skin. She wore sunglasses, hiding her eyes.
The door to the hallway burst open.
Calla Mcgowan walked in, surrounded by an entourage of assistants. She looked like a queen surveying her subjects. She laughed at something an assistant said, tossing her blonde hair.
"Make sure Braeden has his coffee," Calla ordered loudly. "And tell these girls to go home. We're looking for a star, not extras."
She turned and almost walked into Ivy.
"Watch it," Calla snapped.
Ivy slowly reached up. She took off her sunglasses.
She looked directly into Calla's eyes.
Calla stopped. The color drained from her face instantly. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She stumbled back, clutching her chest.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Ivy said. Her voice was calm, pleasant, and absolutely terrifying.
Calla screamed. It was a shrill, piercing sound that silenced the entire room.
"Ghost!" Calla shrieked, pointing a trembling finger. "She's a ghost!"
Ivy smiled. It was the smile of a predator who had just cornered its prey.
"I'm not a ghost, Calla," Ivy stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper only Calla could hear. "I'm your worst nightmare."
At that moment, the double doors at the end of the hall opened.
Auguste Randall walked in, flanked by security. He saw the scene. He saw Calla hyperventilating. He saw Ivy standing calm and collected in the center of the storm.
Their eyes met.
Auguste smirked.
"Interesting," he whispered.
