THE PROXY HEIR

Chapter 5 Two Faces, One Throne

Dozens of board members sat frozen in their leather executive chairs, their eyes darting back and forth between the two identical men standing at opposite ends of the room. It was like looking into a twisted funhouse mirror.

On one side stood James, drenched from the storm, his clothes smudged with soot from the 1920s vault explosion, and his boots leaving small puddles of muddy water on the pristine white tiles. On the other side stood the newcomer. He wore a flawless, custom-tailored navy blue suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, and his shoes polished to a mirror shine,he looked exactly like a multi-billion dollar heir should look. He looked exactly like Edward.

Uncle Charles leaned back in his chair, his initial panic completely dissolving into a smug. Feeling totally safe and in control.

"Well, well, well,"

Charles murmured his voice dripping with theatrical amusement. "It seems we have a bit of a genetic puzzle on our hands. Executives, it appears an impostor has infiltrated our building in a desperate attempt to steal the golden legacy."

“He's a fraud!”James shouted, stepping forward. He pointed directly at the man in the navy suit. “Charles hired him! I just brought the missing seventy-million dollar ledger from the terminal vault! The real files are right here on the table!”

The board members began to whisper frantically among themselves. A senior executive with gray hairs leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. ”Edward... or whoever you are, both of you look identical And the seventy million dollar ledger is indeed the authentic encrypted drive.

The navy suited double took confident step into the room. He didn't look flustered or angry. He looked at james with an expression of pity.

“Gentlemen, and ladies of the board,” the double speaks in style, his voice a perfect, smooth baritone that echoed the real Edward, his speech patterns was flawlessly. “This man is nothing but a common criminal. He obviously tracked my movements, staged an attack on my penthouse last night, and stole the briefcase from my private vault after I unlocked it. He is trying to shake us down."

James’s stomach dropped. The double was good. He didn't just have Edwards face,he had the posture, the arrogance, and the rhythm of a man born into extreme wealth. James was a delivery guy. He knew how to handle aggressive dogs and rude customers, but he didn't know how to speak the language of a high-society boardroom, He felt out of place, dirty, and exposed.

Vivian wence stepped up beside James in style, her eyes narrowing as she studied the newcomer. She kept her hand close to her jacket pocket where her weapon was concealed.

"You're playing a dirty game," Vivian said coldly, addressing the double.

"But Edward and I have known each other since we were children, the Edward I know is smart. You expect me to believe, that some random thug walked away with your most valuable asset?"

The double smiled warmly at her, a gesture that looked practiced in a mirror. "Vivian my dear, I was caught off guard by the bomb blast, while this thief must have looted the ruins. I am deeply sorry you were dragged into his scam."

Charles clapped his hands together, cutting through the tension

“Enough of this circus. Security, remove the drenched criminal in the muddy boots immediately. We have a liquidation vote to finish.”

Two large, armed security guards stepped into the room, their hands resting heavily on their holsters. They began walking straight toward james.

James’s mind raced. He had seconds before he was thrown into a dark cell or, worse. He needed to break the double’s script. He needed to force the actor to react like a normal person, not a rehearsed character. He looked at the double’s pristine suit, his soft hands, and his perfect posture. Then, James remembered something Arthur had told him about edward's work style.

"Hey!!," James said loudly, as his voice dropped, attempting to revert his raw and casual street tone. "You say you're Edward? You say you unlocked that vault yourself?"

The double blinked, slightly caught off guard by the sudden shift in james's demeanor.

"Of course I did." The double answer

"Great," james smirked, taking a step closer, ignoring the guards who were now just feet away. Then you must remember the delivery lock codes on the street level outside the station. The ones Edward used to route his private mail to avoid Charles's wiretaps. What’s the standard keypad sequence for a third-party courier drop in this city?"

The double froze. His eyes darted to Charles for a fraction of a second. A tiny bead of sweat broke out near his hairline.

“That... that is completely irrelevant. I don't waste my time memorizing trivial courier logistics.”

"It's a standard hash-key sequence followed by a six-digit terminal ID," james said, his voice rising with confidence.

"Every tech executive in the city knows how to use automated drops to bypass corporate mailrooms. You don't know it because you've never spent a single day living in the real world, you're an actor, acting in a script charles wrote for you." James added.

The board members looked at each other, the whispers growing louder. The gray-haired executive frowned.

"He raises a valid point, Charles. The real Edward was paranoid about security and handled his own off-grid drops."

Charles’s face darkened. "This is absurd! Security, I gave you an order! Drag him out!"

The guards lunged forward, grabbing James's arms. He struggled to free himself, but their grip was like iron. He looked at Vivian, begging her with his eyes to do something.

Vivian didn't look at james. Instead, she walked directly toward the double in the navy suit. Her face was a mask of pure curiosity. "Wait," she said, her voice commanding the entire room to stop. The guards paused, holding James mid-stride.

Vivian stopped just inches away from the double. She reached out and smoothly grabbed his left wrist, pulling up the silk sleeve of his expensive navy jacket.

There, sitting perfectly on the man's pale skin, was a faint scar. It looked exactly like the mark left behind by a high velocity polo ball at a polo match accident from years ago.

The double smiled triumphantly. "See? I told you, Vivian. It's me."

Vivian stared at the scar for three long seconds. Then, a cold, dangerous smile spread across her face. She let go of his wrist and took two steps backward, turning her back on the double to face the board of directors.

"Gentlemen," Vivian announced, her voice echoing off the glass walls. "The man in the navy suit is a liar. He is a complete fake."

The room erupted into chaos. Charles stood up so fast his leather chair flipped backward onto the floor. "What are you talking about, Vivian? The scar is right there!"

"Yes, the scar is there," Vivian said, her eyes flashing with absolute venom as she pointed at the double. "But the real Edward was left-handed. He played polo with his left hand. The accident happened on his right wrist, not his left. Charles forgot to check the old medical files before he paid for your plastic surgery."

The double's face drained of all color. He instinctively clutched his left wrist, backing away toward the windows.

James seized the moment, With the guards distracted by Vivian's revelation, he forcefully use his elbow to hit the ribs of the guard holding his right arm. The man groaned, loosening his grip. James twisted free, grabbed the heavy gold pen from the boardroom table, and spun around, pressing the sharp point directly against the neck of the second guard before he could draw his weapon.

"Nobody moves!" James yelled, his delivery-boy reflexes taking over the corporate room.

Suddenly, the lights in the boardroom flickered and went off, leaving the 50th floor in complete darkness, the room became quite until the sound from a strange tactical drone started vibrating the glass wall from end to end. Seconds later, a deafening impact from the far side of the room sent the glass wall exploding inwards.

When the backup generators kicked in 15 minutes later, casting on a dim red glow over the boardroom, the double was gone. The floor to ceiling glass window behind the table was completely smashed open, the freezing rain splashed into the room, and pinned to the center of the table by a jagged piece of broken glass was a small, note written in elegant handwriting:

Thanks for finding my money, james. See you soon.