Chapter 2 - The Fractured Mirror
Nathan stared at the little girl on the floor, the stark resemblance hitting him like physical shrapnel. The shape of her eyes, the curve of her jawline—they were identical to his own childhood portraits locked away in the family gallery.
“Grace,” Nathan whispered, his voice cracking as he took a mechanical step forward. “Get up. Both of you, stand up.”
Before Grace could move, Victoria recovered her composure with terrifying speed. The panic vanished from her eyes, replaced by a smooth, chilling mask of absolute control. She knelt gracefully beside the hockey stick, retrieving it as if it were nothing more than a misplaced umbrella.
“Nathan, darling, thank goodness you're home,” Victoria said, her tone dripping with smooth, sickening concern. “You have no idea how dangerous this woman is. I walked in and found her trying to steal family heirlooms from the study. When I confronted her, she brought this child out of the servants' quarters to use as a human shield.”
Grace gasped, holding Lily tighter. “You’re lying! You cornered us in the kitchen. You said—you said dead people keep secrets!”
“Do you hear her?” Victoria sighed, looking up at Nathan with a theatrical expression of pity. “She’s completely unhinged. The stress of her underground life has made her delusional. We need to call the authorities immediately.”
Nathan didn’t look at Victoria. His eyes were locked on Grace’s bruised shoulder, where the imprint of the wooden stick was already turning a deep, ugly purple. He knew Victoria. They had moved in the same elite, ruthless social circles for three years. But he had never seen this cold, calculated predator beneath the designer clothes.
“Pack your things, Victoria,” Nathan said, his voice dropping into a quiet, icy register that made the kitchen temperature plummet.
May you like
Victoria’s smile faltered. “What did you say?”
“I said, get out of my house.”
