Chapter 3: Shadows in the Hallway**
Arthur carried Lily up the sweeping marble staircase, leaving the tension of the banquet hall behind. The girl’s room was dimly lit by a porcelain nightlight shaped like a swan—Eleanor’s last gift before her sudden demise.
He tucked Lily under the down comforter, brushing the stray brown curls from her forehead. "You're safe now, angel," he whispered, kissing her brow. "Daddy is right here. No one will ever hurt you in this house."
Lily looked up at him, her hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears. She pointed toward the antique wooden wardrobe in the corner. "Under the floorboards, Daddy. Mommy hid the diary where the bad lady couldn't reach."
Arthur’s breath hitched. "Who is the bad lady, Lily?"
Lily closed her eyes tightly, pulling the blanket over her chin. "The one who smells like expensive gardenias."
Arthur stood up slowly. A cold sweat broke out along his collar. Eleanor had always loved the smell of rain and fresh pine, never heavy perfumes. The only person in the entire Sterling manor who bathed in expensive French gardenia oil was Victoria.
Leaving Lily’s room under the watchful eye of a trusted private nurse, Arthur quietly slipped into the servant quarters in the east wing. The hallway was uncarpeted, cold, and smelled of lemon polish and damp stone. He approached Room 4, the small bedroom Clara had inhabited for over two decades.
The door was slightly ajar. Arthur peered through the crack.
Clara was not packing her clothes. Instead, she was on her knees by the radiator, frantically wrapping an old leather-bound ledger inside a kitchen towel. Beside her on the bed lay a collection of empty glass vials, each labeled in faded handwriting with names of rare herbal sedatives and cardiac suppressants.
Arthur shoved the door open. The hinges groaned in the quiet night.
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"Start talking, Clara," Arthur said, his voice deadly low. "Before I tear this room apart with my bare hands."
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