Chapter 7 - The Ghost on the Landing
David stepped up onto the landing, his heavy boots clicking loudly against the polished wood. He shook the rain from his dark trench coat, the water droplets sparkling under the hallway lights like tiny diamonds before vanishing into the grain of the floor. He didn't look like a ghost; he looked remarkably alive, though his eyes carried the heavy, weary look of a man who had spent decades plotting a single moment.
"Dead is such a comforting word," David said smoothly, setting his heavy leather briefcase down on the hallway floor with a dull thud. "It allows people to sleep at night. It lets them lock doors and pretend the monsters inside have turned to dust."
Clara stood frozen, her hands gripping the wooden banister so hard her fingers ached. Down the hall, she heard the soft scuffling of feet as Eleanor, Sarah, and Evelyn approached the scene.
"David?" Eleanor’s voice trembled, stripped of all its authority. She rounded the corner, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw him. Her face went from pale to ash-gray. "You... you were supposed to stay away. You took your share and you left."
David laughed, a cold, empty sound that lacked any warmth. "My share? You mean my silence, Eleanor? You bought twenty years of quiet with blood money, but inflation is a bitch."
Sarah emerged from the corridor next, her eyes widening in disbelief as she stared at her long-lost brother. She instinctively pulled little Lily, who was still clutching her stuffed white rabbit, even further behind her skirt. "David? Oh god... how many of you are going to crawl out of the woodwork today?"
Evelyn lingered near the doorway of her former prison, watching the family reunion with a twisted sense of amusement. "Welcome to the family reunion, David. Clara just opened the main event."
David’s gaze shifted past Clara, landing on the dark, open doorway behind her. A flicker of genuine emotion—anger, grief, or perhaps just old hatred—crossed his face. He looked back at Eleanor, his jaw tightening.
"You left her in there all this time?" David asked, his voice dropping an octave, losing its calm facade. "Even after everything, you kept her locked in a cage like an animal?"
"She tried to burn us alive, David!" Eleanor shouted back, her restraint finally shattering. Tears streamed freely down her aged cheeks. "What else was I supposed to do with a violent lunatic? Let her roam free to finish the job?"
"She was sick!" David fired back, taking a sharp step toward Eleanor. "And you weren't her doctor, Eleanor. You were her jailer because you wanted control of the estate!"
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Clara stood between them, her head spinning as the ugly truths of her family unraveled piece by piece. She looked down at David’s leather briefcase, realizing with a sudden jolt of dread that whatever was inside those files was going to destroy whatever was left of her family.
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