His Bride in Chains-Chapter 306: A Ghost

More awards followed in a dazzling parade. CEOs were called one by one: a young AI startup founder in a hoodie accepting a golden plaque for disruptive innovation, her voice trembling with emotion. "This means everything—proof that dreams code themselves into reality!" An elderly pharmaceutical mogul, leaning on a cane, received a multimillion-dollar grant trophy, tears in his eyes. "For cures that save lives... thank you." Each presentation was a spectacle—confetti bursts, holographic projections of company logos, and personalized speeches that tugged at heartstrings, blending triumph with raw ambition.

"Next, Solaris Energy’s CEO for the green tech breakthrough award!" the MC announced. A woman in a flowing eco-friendly gown ascended, her award a solar-shaped orb that glowed softly. "This is for the planet," she declared passionately, "and for generations who deserve clean skies."

The hall thrummed with emotion—claps echoing like rain, some attendees dabbing eyes at tales of perseverance. In the shadows, Rafael’s men—Eliana’s bodyguards—stood vigilant: Oliver melting into the crowd like smoke, Will fiddling with hidden tools, Liam scanning postures for threats, Kai a silent shadow, Viktor steady as ever, and Jax coordinating seamlessly.

As the ceremony rolled on, awards for qualified business wins began piling up—jaw-dropping deals sealed on stage with oversized ceremonial pens that had clearly never signed a real contract in their lives. Applause came easily when money was involved. It always did.

Then the MC’s voice softened, polished into something solemn and almost holy.

"And now," he announced, "we come to a special moment. Tonight, we honor a legend. The children of the late Kenneth Holloway—one of the greatest visionaries the tech world has ever known—will join us on stage. Williams, Margaret, Evelyn, and Thomas, please come forward to say a few words about your father and accept awards and multimillion-dollar partnerships in recognition of his enduring legacy."

The spotlight swept toward the VVIP section.

Four polished faces looked up—smugness flickering briefly before being replaced by expressions of carefully rehearsed grief. Like actors hitting their marks, the Holloway siblings rose.

Williams went first. The eldest. Cold gray eyes, a flawless suit, and the kind of confidence that came from never being told no in his life. He walked like the stage already belonged to him—and, in his mind, it probably did.

Margaret followed, wrapped in luxury and restraint. Every line of her outfit screamed money; every line of her face said she felt nothing. Stone would’ve cracked before her expression did.

Evelyn came next, her sleek blonde bob barely moving as she stepped forward. Lips pressed tight, posture rigid, she looked like someone attending a meeting she already resented—and planned to dominate.

Last was Thomas. The youngest. He wore his smile like a flickering match: small, bright, and dangerous if you got too close. Half amusement, half menace, his spoiled cruelty hummed just beneath the surface.

Together, they approached the stage—four heirs, one empire, and not a trace of mourning among them that wasn’t perfectly practiced.

They ascended the stage amid polite applause, microphones handed to them like sacred relics. Williams stepped forward first, clearing his throat with feigned emotion, his voice dripping false sorrow. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for this honor. It’s been three years and seven months since we lost our beloved father, Kenneth Holloway, in that tragic hit-and-run. A careless driver collided with his car, stealing him from us far too soon. He was a titan—a man who built empires from nothing."

Margaret chimed in, her tone polished but hollow. "Dad was everything to us. His vision shaped the tech world. We miss him every day." A dramatic pause, her unreadable face cracking into a single, calculated tear.

Evelyn nodded, her disapproving lips trembling artificially. "He taught us resilience. And now, we promise to safeguard his companies, keep his good name alive—the legacy he strived so hard for."

Thomas added with his smirking flair, "Yeah, Dad’s spirit lives on through us. We’ll make sure his empires thrive. For him."

The hall responded with thunderous claps, some attendees wiping genuine tears, moved by the fabricated grief. Whispers of "Such a loss" and "Inspiring family" floated through the air.

In the VVVIP corner, Eliana’s heart twisted, her honey-brown eyes wide with disbelief. She leaned toward Rafael, whispering urgently. "I can’t believe this. They have no idea Grandfather’s alive? They’re up there lying, acting like they care. It’s heartbreaking—and infuriating."

Rafael’s steel-grey eyes burned with quiet fury, his jaw clenched. He squeezed her hand, his voice a low growl. "H told me everything about them, back when I just knew him as my mysterious friend. How they tried to kill him for his fortune—greedy vultures circling. I didn’t know who he was then, but now... it all clicks. They’re just like my stepmother and her brood. Ruthless, hiding behind fake tears. Makes my blood boil."

James leaned in, his kind eyes concerned behind his glasses. "Rafael, easy. H’s got a plan—remember? This is just the setup."

Eliana nodded, her quiet strength emerging. "You’re right. But seeing them profit from his ’death’... it’s wrong. Grandfather deserves better."

On stage, the MC beamed, holding up a gleaming platinum award—a stylized globe symbolizing global impact. "For Kenneth Holloway’s legacy, this award goes to his children. And now, the multimillion-dollar business deals—partnerships worth hundreds of millions, to bolster the companies he entrusted to you!"

The children stepped forward, smug satisfaction flickering beneath their masks, hands outstretched for the ceremonial contracts.

But as the MC raised the documents, a hush fell. The lights dimmed dramatically, spotlights converging on a hidden side entrance. A low rumble built—subtle at first, like distant thunder—then swelled into a symphony of orchestral swells from hidden speakers. Fog machines hissed, billowing mist across the stage, creating an ethereal veil.

From the shadows emerged Kenneth Holloway, the 79-year-old multibillionaire presumed dead, striding with the cool confidence of a phoenix reborn. His tailored suit hugged his sturdy frame, silver hair gleaming under the lights, wise eyes twinkling with predatory mischief. He moved like a legend stepping out of myth—unhurried, commanding, a holographic aura projected around him for added flair, making him appear larger than life. Gasps ripped through the hall, cameras flashing wildly, the air thick with shock.

"Dad?!" Williams choked, his cold gray eyes bulging in horror.

Margaret’s unreadable face shattered into disbelief. "Impossible..."

Evelyn’s pursed lips gaped, Thomas’s smirk vanishing into pale terror.

Kenneth stopped at the stage’s edge, mic in hand, his voice booming with dramatic flair. "Surprise, children. Reports of my death? Greatly exaggerated."

The hall exploded into chaos—screams, applause, tears—the revelation hanging like a storm about to break.