Chapter 2 - The Hidden Nightmare
Julian didn't wait for the guards to secure Isabella. He scooped Clara into his arms. She was terrifyingly light, her collarbones sharp against her pale skin. He carried her past the terrified household staff, straight up the grand staircase.
"Where are we going?" Clara whispered, burying her face into his chest, terrified of the mansion she had once called home.
"To the master suite," Julian said fiercely. "You are never going back to the shadows, Clara. Never again."
But he couldn't ignore her three words. Behind the mirrors. Julian ordered his head of security, Marcus, to rip down the floor-to-ceiling antique mirrors in Isabella's private corridor. As the glass shattered and the heavy frames were torn from the drywall, a sickening truth was revealed.
Behind the lavish decor was a steel reinforced door.
Marcus kicked the door inward, revealing a hidden, windowless room carved into the very architecture of the estate. The smell of dampness and despair rolled out into the hallway. Inside, there was nothing but a thin cot, a bucket, and a solitary lightbulb. Scratch marks covered the concrete walls. Tally marks. Four years of days, carved by bleeding fingernails.
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Julian stared into the abyss, his stomach violently turning. Isabella hadn't just taken his wife's place in high society; she had lived in Clara’s house, worn Clara’s clothes, and slept in Clara’s bed, all while the real Mrs. Sterling rotted just a few feet away behind the walls.
"Bring Isabella to the drawing room," Julian ordered softly. His voice was no longer a roar. It was a deadly, freezing calm. "And call the police. Tell them the hunt is over."
