Chapter 4: The Guesthouse Exile
The guesthouse was a charming, stone-built cottage nestled among the ancient oak trees at the edge of the Vance estate, far enough from the main manor to feel isolated, yet close enough to remain under constant surveillance. A single security guard in a dark sedan sat parked near the gravel driveway, his headlights casting long, shifting shadows against the living room windows. Sara sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, staring at the small vanity mirror resting on the coffee table. She leaned closer, examining the scratch on her cheek. It was healing slowly, leaving a faint pink line that throbbed whenever her heart rate spiked.
How could the security footage show her striking Beatrice when her memory of the event was entirely different? She closed her eyes, replaying every second of the banquet in her mind. The warm light, the clinking glasses, the sudden sharp pain on her own face, and the immediate, terrifying chaos. It was not a hallucination. She knew she had been hit first by an unseen assailant standing directly behind her in the blind spot where the pillar met the decorative drapery. Yet the camera angle—managed by the estate’s private security firm—had somehow erased that crucial detail, or perhaps the blind spot had been cleverly exploited by someone else.
A soft knock at the front door broke the heavy silence. Sara stood up cautiously, walking across the hardwood floor to turn the brass handle. Standing on the porch was Marcus, the longtime estate gardener, holding a wicker basket filled with freshly pruned roses. His weathered face was etched with quiet concern, his eyes darting toward the parked security sedan before meeting Sara’s gaze.
""Evening, Miss Sara,"" Marcus murmured, keeping his voice low as he stepped past the threshold and set the basket on the entryway table. ""I shouldn't be here. Mr. Julian gave strict orders. But I wanted to bring you these. And... to tell you something you might want to hear.""
Sara locked the door behind him quickly, her heart pounding against her ribs. ""What is it, Marcus? Did you see what happened at the banquet?""
""I was cleaning the terrace just outside the eastern doors,"" Marcus said, his hands nervously twisting the brim of his canvas cap. ""I saw the commotion, of course. But before that, about ten minutes before Mrs. Vance got hurt, I saw someone else near that pillar. Someone who shouldn't have been inside the private wing.""
May you like
Sara leaned in, holding her breath. ""Who, Marcus? Who was it?""
""It was Mr. Vance’s lawyer, Mr. Hayes,"" Marcus whispered, his voice trembling slightly. ""He was holding a small glass vial, and he was talking on his phone, looking right toward where Mrs. Vance and you were standing. And Miss Sara... he had a fresh scratch on his hand, too. Exactly like the one on your cheek.""
###
