Chapter 6
The grand foyer of Oakridge Manor was a cavernous space dominated by a sweeping double staircase with polished mahogany banisters and an ornate crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Elena burst into the open area, gasping for breath, only to freeze in her tracks. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking down with cold, calculating authority, was Margaret. The older woman’s beige tweed suit looked immaculate, contrasting sharply with the chaotic turmoil of the moment.
“Running away so soon, Elena?” Margaret called out, her voice echoing smoothly across the marble floor. “You really are foolish. Did you honestly think you could snoop through Daniel’s private study and simply walk out the front door?”
From behind her, Elena heard the heavy footsteps of Daniel approaching down the hallway from the study, breathing heavily with suppressed rage. She was trapped between mother and son in the very heart of their fortress. The massive oak front doors were bolted shut from the inside, the heavy brass deadbolt locked securely.
“Let me go,” Elena demanded, keeping her voice as firm as possible while her eyes darted frantically around the room for an alternative exit. “I know everything. I have the files, I have the video, and the police already have copies backed up in the cloud.”
It was a bluff, a desperate gamble born of sheer survival instinct, but it hit its mark. Margaret’s composure flickered for a fraction of a second, a micro-expression of genuine panic crossing her lined face before she quickly masked it with a sneer.
“You are bluffing,” Margaret said, descending the stairs slowly, step by measured step, like a queen surveying a conquered province. “You don't have time to back up anything. You are just a frightened girl who wandered into a world far too complex for her to understand. Hand over the phone, Elena. Right now. And we might consider letting you pack a single bag before you leave for a very long, permanent vacation in a private sanitarium.”
Daniel stepped into the foyer from the hallway, rubbing his bruised foot, his dark eyes burning with malice. “She found the folder on Catherine, Mother,” Daniel said coldly. “She knows about the accident.”
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Margaret stopped halfway down the stairs, her expression turning glacial. The pretense of civility was entirely gone. “Then she leaves us no choice,” Margaret declared, her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “Catherine was a mistake we corrected. Elena is simply history repeating itself.”
Elena backed away until her spine hit the heavy wood of the front door. She fumbled in her pocket for the cracked smartphone, her fingers wrapping around it. She needed a distraction, something to break their coordination long enough for her to unbolt the door and escape into the sprawling grounds of the estate before they could corner her completely.
