Twisted Vengeance

CHAPTER 2: The Warning

Serelle’s POV

Eamon Reid walks in. My godfather. And he is smiling at me like he did not just see my slide.

My stomach drops straight to the floor.

He wears his usual grey tweed jacket. The same jacket he wore to my father's funeral. His hair is whiter now, and his glasses sit low on his nose, giving him the appearance of the kind uncle everyone trusts.

He does not look at my slide on the big screen. He looks at me, and he smiles.

"Sorry I am late," he says to the council. His voice is warm and friendly. The voice that taught me how to read a blueprint when I was ten. "Traffic from the city was terrible."

The chairman nods. "Mr Reid, thank you for joining. Voss Property Group was just about to start their keynote after Dacre and Co."

Eamon walks to the Voss table and sits down right next to Kellan. He does not sit opposite. He sits on the same side as my enemy.

Kellan does not look at him. Kellan is still staring at me, his face pale and his hands clenched flat on the table. He looks like a man who has just seen a ghost and realized the ghost was telling the truth.

Priya leans close to me and whispers, "Serelle, that is your godfather, right? Why is he sitting with them?"

I cannot answer. My pen shakes in my hand. I tap it three times. But my pulse refuses to calm down.

Eamon finally looks at the screen. He sees my slide. The report. The signature block. The date. The note: DEAD MAN CANNOT SIGN.

His smile does not leave. It just grows tighter.

He stands up and buttons his jacket.

"Chairman, members of the council," he says, his tone smooth and professorial. "I think there is a small confusion here. Miss Dacre is young. She is emotional. She lost her father, and we all understand that. But this is not the place for family grief."

He walks over to the screen and points at my slide with his own laser pointer.

"This date error you see? It is a simple administrative error. The council portal often changes dates when files are uploaded. I have seen it many times in thirty years of building. It does not mean forgery. It means a secretary uploaded a file late."

Smooth lies, spoken with a warm smile.

"My father died years ago," I say, my voice louder than intended. The whole room turns to look at me. "Your report says he signed in 2026. An admin error does not bring a dead man back to sign a paper."

Eamon turns to me with soft, pitying eyes, treating me like an erratic child.

"Serelle, dear," he says. That word. Dear. He always called me dear when I was small. Now it sounds like poison. "Your father was under a lot of stress before he passed. He signed many things without reading them properly. He might have pre signed blank sheets. It is common in old companies. You were not in the business then. You would not know."

Pre-signed blank sheets. He is calling my father careless, painting him as a criminal all over again.

The council members start whispering among themselves. One man in a grey suit writes down a note. I can read the word: EMOTIONAL.

Kellan finally moves. He stands up as well, towering over Eamon. His navy suit makes him look sharp and formidable against Eamon's tweed.

He does not look at Eamon. He looks directly at the council.

"Chairman," Kellan says, his voice low but clear. "Can we see the original physical logbook? Not the scanned report. The physical logbook from Dacre Homes for that year."

The room goes silent once more.

Eamon's smile freezes for half a second.

I open my briefcase, my hands steady now, and pull out the green ledger. The real one. Page 47.

I place it on the scanner. My father's handwriting appears on the big screen, small, neat, and precise.

Oct 12, 2021. E.R. asked me to sign off on cheaper scaffolding from Kline Supplies. Quote £42k less than spec. I refused. Safety risk. - J.D.

E.R.

Eamon Reid.

The initials shine brightly on the screen for everyone in the room to read.

Eamon Reid steps back from the screen as if he has been physically struck.

Kellan looks at the screen, then down at Eamon. His grey-blue eyes are no longer cold; they are burning with a fierce intensity.

"Eamon," Kellan says, very quietly, so only the front tables can hear. "Who is E.R.?"

Eamon does not answer immediately. He takes off his glasses and begins to clean them with his handkerchief, his hands visibly shaking.

The chairman clears his throat. "This is a very serious allegation, Miss Dacre. We will need to pause this session and send both reports for forensic review. This bidding process is suspended until the investigation is complete."

Suspended. The job is paused. Three hundred million pounds frozen because of my slide.

Priya grabs my arm under the table. "You did it," she whispers. "You stopped them."

But I am not looking at Priya. I am looking at Eamon.

He puts his glasses back on and looks at me. The warm uncle smile is completely gone. What remains is tired, bitter anger.

He mouths two words across the room without making a sound.

Stop it.

My blood turns cold.

The meeting is adjourned. Chairs scrape against the floor, papers rustle, and the council members file out quickly while tapping on their phones.

I pack my laptop with numb fingers.

A strong, firm hand touches my elbow.

Kellan.

"We need to talk," he says, his voice shedding its cold CEO veneer to sound like the boy from three years ago in my kitchen. "Not here. Nowhere near him."

He glances toward the door where Eamon is still standing, watching us.

"My car. Five minutes. Basement car park. Level B2. Please, Serelle."

He says please. Kellan Voss never says please.

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes in my blazer pocket.

If you show page 48, your mother will be back in hospital. Keep your mouth shut about Kline Supplies. - E

I look up, but Eamon is gone, the heavy side door clicking shut behind him.

Priya holds my bag tightly. "Serelle? You are shaking. What happened?"

Kellan is still holding my elbow, waiting for my answer, when my phone buzzes again.

I know you kept the second ledger.