Chapter 3: The Cage of Polished Marble**
They confined Clara to the estate library, locking the heavy mahogany double doors from the outside.
The room was suffocatingly warm, smelling of aged cedar, leather-bound ledgers, and old wealth. Clara sank into an oversized velvet armchair, her hands resting over her belly. Inside, she felt the faint, rhythmic kicks of her child—innocent, entirely unaware that the world outside was sharpening its knives.
"We’re going to be okay, little one," Clara whispered in the dark room, fighting back a rising wave of panic. "Your father didn't abandon us. He wouldn't."
Julian Vance had left the estate three hours before the ceremony, claiming he had an urgent legal matter regarding his late father’s trust fund in the city. He had promised to return before the reception toasts. He had told Clara to wait in the foyer lounge, reassuring her that tonight would be the night they finally announced their pregnancy to the Vance dynasty.
Instead, the moment Julian drove through the wrought-iron gates, a stranger had bumped into Clara in the hallway, jostling her bag. Minutes later, Eleanor had sounded the alarm about the missing family heirloom, cornering Clara directly beneath the foyer chandelier.
It wasn't an accident. It was an ambush.
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Suddenly, the library’s French balcony doors clicked. A brisk autumn breeze swept into the room, fluttering the heavy velvet curtains. Clara stood up abruptly, her heart hammering against her ribs.
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