Chapter 9 - The Ghost in the Armchair
Thaddius stepped out of the elevator first, pulling his phone from his pocket and turning on the flashlight beam.
"Stay behind me," he whispered to Clarice and Genevieve.
They crept down the dark hallway toward the master entrance. The heavy mahogany door—which Thaddius had left splintered three months ago—had been replaced with a pristine, solid steel door with a high-tech biometric scanner.
Thaddius reached out to type his old six-digit code into the keypad.
The scanner flashed red: ACCESS DENIED.
"What?" Thaddius muttered, his brow furrowing. "Did the building change the lock?"
Before he could try again, the heavy steel door swung open silently from the inside.
The penthouse interior was completely dark, save for the faint glow of the Manhattan skyline reflecting through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows across the grand living room.
"Seraphina?" Genevieve squeaked, stepping back into the hallway.
"Shut up," Thaddius snapped, his heart beginning to thud against his ribs. "She’s not alive, Genevieve. It’s been seventy-four days."
He stepped across the threshold, flashlight beam bouncing off the polished hardwood floor.
The air in the apartment wasn't cold and stagnant as he had expected. It was warm, fragrant with the subtle scent of fresh white lilies, and filled with the gentle, ambient hum of a fully operational climate control system.
"What is going on here?" Clarice whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she clutched her mink stole. "Who turned the power back on?"
SNAP.
Suddenly, the grand chandelier above the living room burst into brilliant, blinding light.
Thaddius, Clarice, and Genevieve gasped, covering their eyes against the sudden glare.
As their eyes adjusted, they saw a grand velvet armchair sitting in the center of the room, facing the entrance.
Sitting in the chair was a woman.
She was dressed in an exquisite white silk gown. Her legs were crossed comfortably. A crystal glass of sparkling water rested in her right hand, and her eyes—clear, bright, and utterly devoid of mercy—were fixed directly on Thaddius.
It was me.
Clarice let out a blood-curdling shriek, staggering back against the doorframe. "A... A GHOST!"
Genevieve dropped her designer handbag, her face turning as white as a sheet. "Thaddius! Thaddius, what is that?!"
Thaddius froze. His flashlight slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor. His mouth opened, but no sound came out for five full seconds.
"S... Seraphina?" he finally choked out, his knees visibly shaking. "How... how are you..."
"How am I alive?" I finished his sentence for him, my voice smooth, calm, and ringing clear through the vast room.
I took a slow sip of my water, set the glass on the side table, and uncrossed my legs, standing up with effortless grace.
"You left me here to die, Thaddius," I said softly, stepping toward them. "You threw my medicine in the trash. You cut the power. You cut the water. You changed the code. And then you took your mother and sister on a seventy-four-day tour of Europe."
Thaddius took a frantic step backward. "Seraphina... wait! Listen to me! It... it was a mistake! The home care agency—"
"The home care agency you canceled?" I interrupted, taking another step closer. "Or perhaps the medication you personally swept into the garbage bin?"
"Seraphina, darling!" Clarice suddenly wailed, dropping to her knees on the floor, tears streaming down her face as her arrogant composure shattered into a thousand pieces. "We didn't know! We thought you were under medical care! Thaddius told us you were fine!"
"Mother, shut up!" Thaddius yelled, his face turning a terrifying shade of red as panic consumed him.
"No, Thaddius," I said softly, holding up my hand. "Let her speak. Let her tell me about the forty-thousand-dollar handbags she bought in Paris with my corporate credit line."
Thaddius’s eyes went wide. "How... how do you know about that?"
"I know about everything, Thaddius," I replied smoothly. "I know about the fourteen million dollars you embezzled into Zurich. I know about the yacht in Amalfi. I know about the villa in Capri."
May you like
I smiled gently at him.
"And I know that every single penny you spent over the last seventy-four days was tracked, documented, and certified by the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
