Shadows in the Spotlight
Chapter Three: Shadows in the Spotlight
Elena didn’t return to her hotel. Not yet.
Instead, she stood across the street from the Sutton Foundation Building, wrapped in a long beige trench coat as the late afternoon traffic hummed past her. The structure had changed since she’d last seen it—sleeker glass, bolder signage, bigger presence. But the soul of it, the mission that her mother once poured herself into, still pulsed beneath its surface.
She had come back to find herself. But here, she could also find the truth.
Her mother, Margaret Madison, had co-founded the Sutton Foundation before her sudden death. Everyone had praised her charity work—women’s education, health equity, mental health programs—but Elena remembered the hushed arguments, the tension, the way her mother had whispered that not all donations were as clean as they seemed.
There were secrets buried in the legacy.
And Elena wasn’t a child anymore.
She stepped inside.
The lobby receptionist stood, surprised. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Elena said confidently. “Tell Mr. Walters I’m here. Elena Madison-Sutton.”
The receptionist blinked. “As in… Mrs. Sutton?”
Elena smiled softly. “Exactly.”
---
Greg Walters had aged gracefully into the role of corporate counsel. Sharp suit, graying at the temples, eyes that didn’t miss anything. But even he couldn’t hide his surprise when she entered his office.
“Elena,” he said, standing. “You’re a ghost from a very powerful past.”
“I’m a legal wife, Mr. Walters,” she said calmly. “And I’d like to know what that means today.”
He motioned for her to sit. “I suppose you already know the marriage was never annulled.”
“I do. I also know the Sutton Board will lose its collective mind once they find out I’m back.”
“And that you’re still legally entitled to part of the estate,” he said, watching her carefully.
“I don’t want money,” she replied. “I want records. Everything related to the Sutton Foundation from the year my mother died.”
Greg leaned back. “That could reopen a lot of wounds.”
“Then it’s time they bled.”
---
Meanwhile, across town, Kian stepped into the private dining hall of the Sutton Board. He was met with a sea of familiar faces—investors, allies, and enemies in tailored suits.
Evelyn Sutton, his aunt, gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You look pale, darling. Bad news?”
He took his seat at the head. “Not bad. Just… old news resurfacing.”
“Oh? Like your wife?”
The word sliced through the room like ice water.
Kian didn’t flinch. “Yes. She’s back.”
Murmurs rose instantly.
“And you didn’t think the Board deserved a courtesy heads-up?” Evelyn asked sweetly, dangerous.
“I didn’t think her presence affected our Q2 goals,” Kian said coolly.
“Unless she decides to assert her legal rights,” Evelyn snapped.
Kian’s tone didn’t waver. “Then we’ll handle it. She’s not here for power.”
Evelyn smirked. “Are you sure?”
He said nothing. Because the truth was—he wasn’t.
Not anymore.
---
Elena sat in Greg’s office flipping through scanned files on a tablet. Her fingers hesitated when she reached the audit from her mother’s final year on the Foundation board.
There it was. A series of anonymous donations from offshore accounts.
“Who signed off on these?” she asked.
Greg peered at the screen. “That signature… that's Evelyn Sutton.”
Elena exhaled slowly. Of course it was.
“And this one,” she said, swiping again, “matches one of the dummy companies flagged by the IRS two years ago.”
Greg nodded. “The trail went cold, but it shook the Foundation. We were told to bury it.”
Elena stood. “I want everything you have. Originals. Not summaries.”
He hesitated. “You’re walking into something that doesn’t forgive loose ends, Elena.”
She turned, fire flickering in her eyes. “Good. I plan to tie them all.”
---
Back at the penthouse, Kian loosened his tie and poured a drink. Bourbon. Neat. The only thing that ever cut through the dull ache of silence.
He picked up his phone. Hovered over her name.
He had memorized her number the day he got it. Hadn’t called. Not once.
Until now.
He hit dial.
It rang once. Twice. Then—
“Elena.”
She paused. “Kian.”
A heartbeat passed.
“Why did you come back?” he asked. No coldness. Just the raw scrape of curiosity.
“To reclaim what’s mine,” she said.
“And what is that, exactly?”
Her voice was quiet but certain. “The truth.”
And then she ended the call.
---