Chapter 3 - Poisoned Silks and Twisted Lies
The night grew deeper,
casting long shadows over the sprawling estate.
In the east wing guest quarters,
Clara sat on the edge of a king-sized bed,
unaccustomed to such luxury.
The boys were sleeping in the adjacent room,
guarded by two trusted security officers Andrew had personally assigned.
Clara traced the scar on her wrist,
her pulse racing.
Every time she closed her eyes,
flashes of light and heat invaded her mind.
She saw a burning staircase,
a heavy wooden door locked from the outside,
and a woman standing in the courtyard watching the flames rise.
That woman had been wearing a brilliant blue silk gown.
A quiet knock at the door shattered her thoughts.
Before Clara could answer,
the door opened slowly,
and Victoria stepped into the room.
The soft light from the hallway caught the cruel edge of her expression.
“You shouldn’t have come back,”
Victoria whispered,
her voice dropping to a bitter,
venomous hiss.
Clara stood up hastily,
backing away toward the window.
“Miss Victoria,
I don’t understand what is happening,”
Clara said,
trying to keep her voice steady.
“I am just trying to earn an honest living.”
Victoria laughed softly,
a cold,
heartless sound that chilled Clara to the bone.
“An honest living?”
Victoria spat,
taking slow steps toward her.
“You were supposed to rot in that obscure village clinic!
I paid that doctor half a million dollars to keep you drugged and nameless for the rest of your miserable life!”
Clara’s heart slammed against her ribs.
The foggy memories in her head began to align,
sharp and agonizingly clear.
“It was you,”
Clara gasped,
her eyes widening in horror.
“You locked the nursery door that night!
You set the fire!”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed into slit-like glare.
“You were always so naive,
Evelyn,”
Victoria sneered,
using her real name for the first time.
“Andrew was meant for me!
His wealth,
his status,
this entire empire belonged to my family before your father bankrupt us!
I took back what was mine!”
Victoria reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small glass vial.
“The police won’t find anything in that grave tomorrow because it’s empty,”
Victoria murmured chillingly.
“And by tomorrow morning,
you will be found dead in this bed,
a tragic victim of an accidental overdose brought on by your mental distress.”
Clara lunged toward the door,
opening her mouth to scream for help.
Victoria grabbed her by the hair,
yanking her back violently onto the floor.
The small glass vial shattered against the bedside table,
spilling clear liquid across the dark hardwood.
Clara kicked wildly,
her heel striking Victoria’s knee.
Victoria shrieked in pain and fell sideways,
knocking over a brass lamp with a loud,
resounding crash.
Heavy footsteps immediately thundered down the hallway.
The door slammed open,
May you like
and Andrew rushed inside,
his eyes blazing with rage.
