The hall still hummed with tension after the intruder vanished into the night, the heavy air saturated with anxiety and uncertainty. Edward's men had scoured every wing, their footsteps echoing ominously against the polished marble floors, but the damage was already done. Someone had slipped through the Donovans' house like a ghost, leaving nothing but disquiet in their wake.
And that meant one chilling thing.
"It was an inside hand," Edward stated coldly, loud voice slicing through the restless murmurs that filled the gathering in the dimly lit study.
"Doors don't open themselves. Guards don't look the other way without reason." He continued with words dripped with the weight of betrayal, reverberating against the cold stone walls.
Edward could see the staff standing in line against the wall, pale and shifting under his unwavering gaze. Each of their faces reflected fear. The fear of his scrutiny and the fear of the unknown. Marie was sitting quietly beside him, her hand steady on his, acting as a reminder of the strength she usually embodied.
One of the guards stepped forward, a small, crumpled bundle of evidence in his hand. "Sir, we found this on the intruder's path. It's a pass key, and it belonged to one of the maids." His voice was low, almost reverent, as if the revelation itself was a sacred truth.
A ripple of shock surged through the room like a wave crashing upon the rocks. Edward caught Ellie's sharp inhale before she spoke; her voice was a fragile whisper, echoing the disbelief painted across her delicate features.
"Is that Clara's pass key?" he heard her asking with a quivering tone, the name hanging heavily in the air. Edward dismissed the guards with a single, piercing look, signalling that Clara would be dealt with swiftly and definitively. His attention, however, turned to Ellie, who sat stiffly beside Tristan, her hands twisted nervously in her lap, a storm of emotions raging just beneath the surface.
"You see now?" Edward said, with his tone softer than he intended, almost a plea veiled in sternness. "This is what it means to stand with us. Even the smile you trust might conceal a blade poised to strike."
-
Oh, Clara. Sweet, timid Clara. I couldn't reconcile the image of her gentle face, bringing me an extra blanket during my first overwhelming night in this massive house, her soft whispers of reassurance cutting through my anxiety, with the notion of betrayal. I wanted to scream that it wasn't possible, that she couldn't have opened the door for a man who came here to threaten me.
But the proof lay on the polished mahogany desk, undeniable in its stark reality.
The betrayal cut deep, not just because of the imminent danger it represented, but because it stripped away yet another layer of safety I had thought I possessed in this house that was meant to be my refuge. For the first time, I truly understood what Edward had meant. How family and loyalty can be both a shield and a weapon, providing comfort and a source of pain.
Still, I lifted my chin defiantly, even though my chest ached with confusion and fear. "If they think this will scare me into leaving, then they're wrong." My voice trembled, yet the words sprang forth from a newfound core of resolve. "I won't run."
Tristan's hand tightened over mine instantly, warmth flooding through our connection, pride blazing in his stormy blue eyes. Edward studied me for a long moment, his expression stern, yet a flicker of something like reluctant respect glinted in his piercing gaze, like a distant star breaking through a stormy sky.
I wasn't just Sophia's best friend anymore. I wasn't merely a guest in this grand, intimidating house. I was part of this now, whether I had chosen it or it had chosen me.
And above all, I would not be caged.