The Billionaire Golden Ghost

Chapter 4: The Puppet Master's Trap.

The words echoed through the massive penthouse office like a thunderclap.

“The real Aria Rose died in a car accident three months ago. This woman... this woman is an impostor!”

Victoria’s face was twisted in a triumphant, ugly sneer. She stared at me as if she had already placed the noose around my neck. Beside her, I felt Xavier’s entire body go rigid. His hand, which had been pinning mine against the leather folder, tightened instinctively. His dark eyes slowly shifted from his mother to me, a terrifying, stormy darkness brewing within them.

“Is this true?” Xavier’s voice was dangerously low, a soft growl that vibrated through the dark obsidian desk. “Are you going to tell me who you really are, Miss Rose?”

For a single heartbeat, the room was so silent you could hear the ticking of the gold clock on the wall. Victoria was practically vibrating with malicious excitement, waiting for me to gasp, to stammer, to fall to my knees and beg for mercy just like I did three years ago.

Instead, I slowly threw my head back and let out a soft, mocking laugh.

The sound was melodious, arrogant, and entirely unbothered. It echoed off the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, throwing Victoria completely off balance. Her sneer faltered, replaced by a flash of nervous confusion.

“An impostor?” I asked, calmly pulling my hand out from under Xavier’s grip now that his shock had loosened it. I straightened my emerald-green blazer, looking directly into Victoria’s panicked eyes. “Mrs. Vance, I knew your family’s security department was lagging, but I didn't realize it was entirely incompetent.”

“Do not play games with me, you little thief!” Victoria hissed, slamming her expensive leather handbag onto the desk. “I have the death certificate right here! Aria Rose is dead!”

“Yes, she is,” I replied smoothly, crossing my arms and leaning back against the desk with absolute poise. “The original Aria Rose—the woman whose name was on the birth certificate—died in Paris ninety days ago. And do you know who buried her, Mrs. Vance? I did.”

Xavier stood up, his towering six-foot-two frame casting a massive, intimidating shadow over the desk. “Explain. Now.”

“Aria Rose is not a person, Mr. Vance. It is a legacy title,” I lied, weaving a web of deception so thick and intricate they couldn't possibly unravel it on the spot. “In the elite circles of Parisian brand consulting, ‘Aria Rose’ is a pseudonym passed down to the chief strategist of our firm to protect our true identities from corporate espionage. When my predecessor tragically passed away three months ago, the board voted unanimously to pass the mantle—and the name—to me.”

I took a step toward Victoria, my heels clicking like a countdown clock. “Your cheap, surface-level investigators saw a death certificate and thought they found a scandal. If you had dug just one layer deeper into the French corporate registry, you would have seen my face attached to the operational license of Aria Rose Consulting.”

Victoria’s face went from pale to complete ashen. Her lips trembled as she looked at her son. “Xavier, she is lying! She’s manipulating the timeline! She looks exactly like—”

“Like who, Mother?” Xavier interrupted, his voice dropping into an icy, commanding register that cut her off entirely. He wasn't looking at Victoria. His burning, intense gaze was fixed entirely on me, tracing the sharp, confident line of my jaw. “Finish the sentence. Who does she look like?”

Victoria choked on her own breath. She couldn't say the name Elena. To admit that this elite, multi-million-dollar consultant looked like the girl she had framed and sent to prison would mean exposing her own crimes to her son. She had kept Xavier in the dark about the full details of my arrest, and now, her own secrets were gagging at her.

“Nobody,” Victoria whispered hoarsely, her manicured fingers gripping the edge of her handbag so hard her knuckles turned white. “She just... she looks like trouble.”

“Then leave my office,” Xavier commanded, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. “Miss Rose’s credentials have already been verified by my international legal team. I do not tolerate personal vendettas disrupting my global launches. Out.”

Victoria looked like she had been slapped. She gave me one final, venomous look—a look that promised total war—before turning on her heel and storming out of the penthouse, the heavy double doors slamming shut behind her.

Once again, the office fell into a suffocating silence.

I turned back to the desk to grab my leather folder, ready to make a grand, professional exit of my own, but Xavier moved faster. Before I could take a step, he bypassed the desk entirely, closing the distance between us until his broad chest was nearly brushing against my shoulders.

The scent of sandalwood and winter rain enveloped me, making my breath hitch in my throat.

“You’re very good,” Xavier whispered, his voice dangerously close to my ear, his dark eyes boring into mine with a terrifying mixture of suspicion and raw, unadulterated fascination. “That story was flawless. Standard corporate protection. Brilliant.”

“It’s the truth, Mr. Vance,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady, though my heart was pounding so hard I was certain he could hear it.

“Is it?” He reached out, his long fingers gently catching a stray lock of my dark hair, twisting it slowly. His touch was electric, a burning heat that sent a shiver straight down my spine. He leaned down, his lips inches from mine. “You fooled my mother. But you didn't fool me, Aria. I don't care what the French registry says. I know there is a fire behind those cold eyes, and I am going to play along until I find out exactly what you're planning to burn down.”

He slid his hand down from my hair, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin of my neck before he reached past me and picked up a thick document from his desk.

He dropped it into my hands.

I looked down. Printed across the front page in bold, gold lettering were the words: EXCLUSIVE SIX-MONTH MANAGEMENT CONTRACT.

“Sign it,” Xavier murmured, his dark eyes flashing with a possessive, dangerous light. “Six months, Aria. You and me, locked in this office, working side-by-side. If you're a ghost, I'm going to capture you. And if you're an impostor... I’m going to make you beg for my mercy.”