Chapter 5 - Caught in the Web
Standing in the doorway was Mr. Vance, the estate butler. His usually polite, stiff posture was gone, replaced by a menacing stillness. In his right hand, he held a heavy brass candlestick; in his left, a ring of master keys.
"Mr. Vance," Clara breathed, instinctively standing up and stepping protectively in front of Lily’s bed. "Please... the child is being drugged. Look at her—she's not paralyzed, she's being poisoned!"
Mr. Vance let out a dry, humorless chuckle that sounded like stones scraping together. "Poisoned? Nonsense, girl. Dr. Harrison is an elite physician. The mistress knows what is best for the estate. And right now, the mistress wants this little nuisance—and her nosy little helper—permanently silenced."
Lily let out a terrified shriek, grabbing Clara’s apron. "Don't let him take you, Clara! He locked my mother in the west wing before she died! He does whatever Selene says!"
Mr. Vance’s face darkened instantly at the mention of Lily’s late mother. A flash of genuine panic crossed his cold eyes, quickly masked by murderous rage.
"Brat," Vance snarled, stepping into the room and raising the heavy brass candlestick. "You talk too much. Just like your mother."
Clara didn't hesitate. Adrenaline surged through her veins. As Vance lunged forward, she grabbed the heavy ceramic water pitcher from the bedside table and hurled it with all her might straight at his chest.
The pitcher smashed against Vance’s sternum, sending him stumbling backward with a grunt of shock.
"Run, Lily!" Clara shouted, grabbing the child in her arms.
Despite being seven years old, Lily was alarmingly light, her body frail from months of confinement. Clara hoisted her into her arms, spun around, and sprinted toward the private balcony doors at the back of the nursery.
"Stop them!" Vance roared, recovering his balance and charging forward.
Clara slammed her shoulder against the antique glass doors of the balcony. They gave way with a loud crash, spilling them out into the cold night air onto the wide stone stone terrace that overlooked the jagged cliffs of the Hudson River.
There was no escape down—only the sheer, vertical drop of the cliffside.
Vance stepped out onto the terrace behind them, blocking the only exit back into the mansion, a cruel grin twisting his face as he advanced with the heavy candlestick raised high.
"Nowhere left to run, little bird," Vance hissed.
Clara clutched Lily tightly against her chest, stepping backward until her heels touched the low stone balustrade. Below them, the dark waters of the river churned violently against the rocks.
Just as Vance lunged forward to strike, the heavy oak doors of the terrace blew inward with a deafening bang.
A tall, imposing silhouette filled the doorway.
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"Vance," a voice thundered across the stone terrace—a voice that commanded absolute terror and unquestioned law.
Adrian Vale stood in the threshold, his eyes burning with a dark, apocalyptic fury.
