Chapter 1 - THE FALL AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS
The heavy oak grandfather clock in the foyer chimed seven times, its low, solemn strikes echoing through the cold, marble-floored halls of the Vance estate.
On the second-floor landing, fifteen-month-old Noah sat on the thick Persian rug, his small fingers clutching a wooden toy train. His dark curls tumbled over his forehead, and his wide hazel eyes blinked innocently as he babbled to himself in soft, rhythmic noises.
Standing three steps behind him was Margaret.
Dressed in an immaculate silk lounge dress, her pale face was rigid, her lips drawn into a thin, merciless line. She stared down at the small child with a burning, unadulterated hatred that had consumed her for fifteen months.
"A bastard like you doesn't belong in this house," Margaret whispered, her voice devoid of any warmth or humanity.
Noah turned his head, offering a tiny, toothless smile, completely unaware of the malice towering over him.
Margaret’s jaw tightened. She took a swift step forward and kicked Noah squarely in the back.
The toddler flew over the top step, tumbling head over heels down the steep, hard mahogany staircase. His terrifying, piecing screams echoed through the cavernous house as his small body struck the sharp wooden risers—once, twice, three times.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
At that exact moment, the heavy double front doors slid open.
Daniel Vance stepped into the foyer, shaking the rain from his coat. The second his eyes caught the horrifying sight of his son falling through the air, his briefcase clattered to the marble floor.
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“NOAH!”
Daniel lunged across the foyer with blinding speed, sliding across the polished floor on his knees and extending his broad arms just in time to catch Noah near the bottom step, cushioning the final impact against his own chest.
