Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Dark
“Hide!” Victoria gasped, her eyes flying wide with sheer terror. “Under the bed! Quickly!”
Clara didn't hesitate. She scrambled backward, diving beneath the massive steel frame of the medical bed just as the heavy oak door swung open with a crash.
The room flooded with harsh overhead light.
Clara pressed herself flat against the dusty floorboards, holding her breath, her fingers clutching the edge of the dust ruffle. Through the narrow gap between the floor and the bedsheets, she saw a pair of polished leather shoes step into the room.
They weren't Adrian’s shoes. These were expensive, Italian-crafted loafers with distinctive silver buckles.
Marcus March.
“Well, well, well,” Marcus’s smooth, oily voice filled the room, making Victoria’s breath hitch in a sob. “Still playing the sick little bird in your cage, Victoria?”
“Go away,” Victoria whispered, her voice shaking violently. “Leave me alone.”
“Oh, I can’t do that, my dear,” Marcus said, his footsteps drawing closer to the bed. Clara could see the hem of his tailored trousers stop just inches from her face. “Your father is getting suspicious. He’s starting to look too closely at the shipping manifests, and if he finds out what we’ve been doing with the dock revenues... well, let’s just say your little medical expenses might suddenly become too expensive to maintain.”
“My father trusts you,” Victoria choked out.
“Your father trusts no one. That’s why he keeps you locked up here where no one can use you against him,” Marcus laughed softly, a cold, mocking sound. “He thinks he’s protecting you by hiding you away. He has no idea that the very people he feeds at his table are the ones keeping you in this bed.”
Clara’s blood ran cold.
Marcus March is poisoning her.
He was using Victoria as leverage against Adrian, controlling the mafia boss by holding his only daughter hostage under the guise of medical care, while simultaneously skimming millions from the family empire. And Adrian, blinded by guilt over the accident and desperate to keep his daughter safe from his enemies, had unknowingly handed his child directly to the wolf.
“Take your medicine like a good girl,” Marcus said, his voice dropping into a menacing purry. “Your nurse will be up shortly with your evening dose. Don't make a fuss, or next time, the dose won't be just for your legs.”
The loafers turned. The sound of footsteps receded toward the door, the heavy oak swinging shut, and the click of the lock echoing in the silence.
Clara waited a full minute before she crawled out from under the bed, her face pale, her eyes blazing with a cold, focused fury.
Victoria was crying softly into her pillow, her small shoulders shaking.
Clara climbed back onto the bed, pulling the girl into her arms, holding her tightly. “Listen to me, Victoria,” Clara said, her voice fierce and steady. “You aren't broken. Your legs aren't paralyzed. You’re being poisoned by the man who just stood in this room.”
Victoria looked up, tears staining her cheeks. “Poisoned? But the doctors—the doctors Papa hired—”
“Weren't your father’s doctors,” Clara interrupted. “They were Marcus March’s men. They’ve been keeping you doped up so you couldn't run, couldn't talk, couldn't walk.”
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Victoria stared at her, terror battling with a sudden, fragile spark of hope. “Can I... can I walk again?”
“Yes,” Clara said, her voice ringing with absolute certainty. “With the right treatment, and once we get that poison out of your system, you’ll walk right out of this house.”
