Chapter 6
While Julian confronted his wife in the grand foyer, a quiet rescue was unfolding in the shadows of the rear service wing. Elena supported Martha’s weight, guiding her slowly down the narrow, dimly lit hallway that led to the domestic staff quarters. Martha’s breathing was shallow and wheezing, a terrifying rattle echoing in her chest with every inhale. The cold rain had penetrated her woolen cardigan, chilling her bones to the core.
"We're almost there, Mrs. Martha. Just a few more steps," Elena whispered encouragingly, her own teeth chattering from the chill. She pushed open the door to her small, clean room, rushing the older woman toward the warmth of the electric space heater humming quietly in the corner.
Elena gently helped Martha out of the ruined, damp cardigan, wrapping her in a thick wool blanket she kept folded on her cot. She retrieved a dry towel, frantically drying Martha’s thinning gray hair, while her mind raced with anxiety. She could hear the muffled shouts echoing from the front of the house—Julian’s furious voice cutting through the architectural distance of the mansion.
"He's here, Mrs. Martha. Your son came back. He's dealing with her right now," Elena reassured the shivering woman, pouring a cup of hot chamomile tea from the electric kettle on her desk.
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Martha clutched the warm ceramic mug with both trembling hands, taking a small, cautious sip. The heat began to thaw the icy numbness spreading through her limbs. Tears welled in her pale eyes once more, but this time, they were tears of profound relief. "Thank you, child... God bless you," Martha murmured softly, her voice barely a breath. "Julian... my poor boy. He has suffered enough with her deceit."
"Don't worry about them, ma'am. Focus on getting warm," Elena said firmly, pulling a chair close to the heater. She grabbed her phone, dialing Thomas’s direct number to let him know they were safe in the staff quarters, ensuring the driver wouldn't send the household into further panic.
