Chapter 2: Nora's Defense
Nora forced a cold, calculated smile, though a bead of sweat traced down her immaculate jawline. She adjusted her diamond-studded earrings, regaining the polished composure that made her corporate boardrooms fear her.
"Arthur's mind is gone, John. He sees shadows in the daylight," Nora said smoothly, stepping closer to the elderly man. She placed a manicured hand on Arthur's shoulder, a gesture that looked tender to an outsider, but to John, it looked like a leash. "You're upsetting him. Look at him. He doesn't even know who you are."
Arthur whimpered softly, his head tilting toward Nora's voice like a programmed response. "Nora... make them stop," the old man mumbled, his voice dry and papery.
John’s eyes narrowed further. He remembered that voice from his childhood—a voice that used to thunder with authority, now reduced to a frightened whisper manipulated by ambition. He looked past Nora, locking eyes with his father.
"He knows my name, Nora," John growled, his fists clenching at his sides until his knuckles turned white. "And you’re terrified he’s going to remember why I left."
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Clara watched the exchange closely, her mind racing. She had worked in this mansion for three years, serving meals in silence, watching the cold corporate vultures circle Arthur’s fading estate. But tonight was different. There was a raw, bleeding history in this room, and she realized she was standing in the middle of a war zone.
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