Chapter 2 - Shadows of the East Wing
The guards wrenched me backward, but I didn't budge. My boots remained planted on the marble as I stared down at the woman who had raised me with lectures on duty, honor, and family legacy.
“Touch her again and I’ll strip every asset this estate sits on before the sun comes up,” I told the guards, my voice so dangerously low that they hesitated, their hands dropping from my shoulders.
I turned and walked out of the ballroom, carrying Sophia against my heart.
The glittering crowd parted like the Red Sea, eyes averted, terrified of catching my gaze. As I pushed through the heavy mahogany doors into the grand foyer, I didn't head for the front exit. Instead, I bypassed the main staircase and headed straight for the service wing—the forgotten labyrinth of narrow corridors, damp laundry rooms, and cramped brick quarters where the estate staff lived.
“Daddy, where are we going?” Sophia whimpered, burying her face in my neck. “Mommy said we aren't allowed in the big house.”
“We’re going home, baby girl,” I said, my voice thick with a grief that felt like crushed glass in my throat. “We’re going to find Mommy right now.”
We descended the winding concrete steps into the basement annex, a damp, subterranean corridor that smelled of bleach and old dust. Victoria’s voice had always been smooth when she spoke of Elena—my wife—claiming that Elena preferred the quiet solitude of the guest lodge while I was away, that she was fragile, unstable, prone to hysterical episodes that required seclusion.
I had believed her. God help me, I had trusted the woman who bore me.
At the very end of the service corridor stood a heavy steel fire door secured with a modern digital keypad. I stared at the keypad, my jaw clenching. It wasn't a standard interior door. It was a security lockdown barrier.
I punched in my mother’s primary override code—her birthday—hoping against hope she hadn't changed it.
Beep-beep-beep-beep.
May you like
The green light flashed. The heavy deadbolt unlocked with a mechanical clunk.
I pulled the door open, and the breath left my lungs in a ragged gasp.
