Chapter 6
Elena’s hand remained steady as she balanced the silver tray on the edge of the small wooden bedside table. The glass of milk sat beside a small ceramic cup containing a fresh dose of liquid—clear this time, devoid of the yellowish tint Julian had seen at the clinic, but no less dangerous.
“Julian, please,” Elena said, her voice dropping into a low, persuasive cadence designed to sound reasonable to anyone listening from the hallway. “Chloe needs her supplement before the fever spikes again. You know how volatile her temperature gets around midnight. Let me do my job.”
Chloe pulled the pink blanket tighter around her neck, her dark eyes darting between Julian and Elena with desperate plea. “Daddy… I don’t want it. It tastes like medicine. It makes my head feel heavy like lead.”
Julian stepped between Elena and the bed, positioning himself as a physical barrier. He looked down at his daughter, his heart aching with guilt for every hour he had spent at his drafting table while this quiet erosion was happening under his own roof.
“You don’t have to drink it, princess,” Julian said softly, his voice steady. He turned his gaze back to Elena, locking eyes with her across the small expanse of the carpet. “She’s not taking it tonight, Elena. In fact, she’s not taking anything you’ve prepared for her from now on.”
Elena did not flinch, but the muscles in her jaw tightened visibly. “You are letting your anxiety override medical necessity, Julian. If her fever rebounds tonight, the liability rests entirely on you.”
“I’ll take that risk,” Julian replied coldly. “Just like I’ll take the risk of reviewing every financial record, every medical log, and every phone call made from this house over the last six months.”
A flicker of genuine alarm crossed Elena’s face—a sharp, unprotected micro-expression that she quickly masked behind a wall of icy composure. She stepped back, her grey satin pajamas whispering against the fabric of the carpet.
“You are making a grave mistake, Julian,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of warmth. “You think you are protecting her, but you have no idea what forces you are disrupting.”
Without waiting for a reply, Elena turned and walked out of the room, her movements precise and controlled. The soft click of the bedroom door latching shut sounded like a gunshot in the quiet upstairs corridor.
Julian exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, taking Chloe’s small, warm hand in his own.
“She’s gone, sweetheart,” Julian whispered, smoothing the pink blanket over her shoulders. “You’re safe now. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chloe blinked slowly, the heavy fog in her eyes seeming to lift just a fraction. “She takes things from my memory box, Daddy. When you’re at work. She looks for pictures of Mommy Sarah.”
May you like
Julian froze. The air in the room turned instantly cold. “What did you say, Chloe?”
“The wooden box in the attic office,” the little girl murmured, her voice barely audible above the hum of the nightlight. “She sits at your desk and looks at the old photographs. And she gets angry when she looks at them. She says Sarah ruined everything.”
