Chapter 2: Shadows Beneath the Floorboards
The silence that followed Eleanor’s chilling declaration was heavier than the mahogany doors flanking the corridor. Clara stepped forward, her hand still trembling against her pregnant belly, trying to coax little Lily away from the terrifying spectacle. Lily buried her tear-stained face into the soft, worn fabric of her white stuffed rabbit, letting out small, rhythmic hiccups that broke Clara’s heart.
Elena released Eleanor’s wrist with a sharp shove, stepping back to adjust the cuffs of her cream silk blouse. Her dark eyes remained locked on the older woman, refusing to grant her the satisfaction of seeing her shaken by a mere ghost story.
“Superstitions and fairy tales won’t change the property deeds locked in the safe,” Elena said coldly, her voice regaining its steady, corporate cadence.
Eleanor rubbed her bruised wrist, her silver bracelet catching the dimming light as a storm cloud began to swallow the sun outside.
“ Deeds don't bleed, Elena,” Eleanor replied softly, turning her back on her. “Neither do papers signed under duress.”
Before Elena could retort, a sharp, metallic scraping sound echoed from beneath their feet, rising directly from the floorboards of the grand hallway. Lily dropped her stuffed rabbit, the small toy tumbling onto the Persian rug with a soft thud, while Clara gasped, stumbling backward against the floral wallpaper.
Elena stared down at the floorboards, her breath hitching in her throat as the dust motes in the air suddenly seemed to freeze.
“What was that?” Clara whispered, her voice shaking with a dread that had nothing to do with the ongoing family feud.
Eleanor didn’t look down. She merely smiled, a dark, knowing expression that made the blood run cold in Elena’s veins.
“That,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper, “is the sound of Julian trying to claw his way back through the foundation you built over his grave.”
Elena’s face paled beneath her carefully applied powder. Julian was supposed to be miles away, having signed away his inheritance months prior before vanishing into the night.
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“He’s dead to this family,” Elena lied, though her voice lacked its usual iron conviction.
“Is he?” Eleanor asked, stepping toward the heavy cellar door at the end of the hall. “Then why is the basement latch lifted from the inside?”
