Chapter 5 - The Forged Signature
"This is impossible," Julian breathed, his hands shaking violently as he dropped the blueprints back onto the mahogany desk. "I never signed this. I didn't even know about these structural modifications to the foundation."
Beatrice leaned back against the edge of the desk, her arms crossed once more, her expression shifting from cold hostility to a strange, unsettling brand of pity.
"That is what Clara tried to tell you, Julian," Beatrice said softly, the harshness fading from her voice, leaving only a hollow exhaustion. "She found these documents hidden in the attic two days before she went missing. She realized someone in this house was altering the mansion's blueprint to create a secure containment unit in the basement."
"Containment unit?" Julian stared at her in disbelief, his mind struggling to piece together the nightmare unfolding around him. "This is a family home, not a prison."
"Was a family home," Beatrice corrected sharply, pointing a manicured finger at the stack of papers. "Read the second page of the architectural log, Julian. Look at who funded the renovations."
Julian’s fingers clumsily flipped through the journal pages until they landed on a bank transfer statement dated six months prior. The letterhead belonged to an offshore holding company he didn't recognize, but the authorizing signature at the bottom made his breath catch in his throat. It was Beatrice’s signature, executed with the same precise, looping penmanship that she used on all household ledgers.
"You financed the basement renovation," Julian accused, his voice rising as he stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the desk. "You built a cell underneath my feet."
"I financed the security upgrade because of what your daughter was becoming," Beatrice fired back, her eyes flashing with sudden, defensive fury. "Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I enjoyed locking a six-year-old child in the dark? Sophie was exhibiting symptoms, Julian. The exact same symptoms Emily had before she stopped breathing."
Julian recoiled as if he had been physically struck. The room seemed to tilt on its axis.
"What are you talking about?" Julian whispered, horror creeping into his chest. "Sophie has asthma. It’s a common medical condition."
"Asthma doesn't make a child hallucinate dead sisters, Julian," Beatrice said, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper as she stepped directly into his personal space. "Clara knew the truth. That’s why she locked Sophie in the basement tonight. She wasn't trying to hurt her. She was trying to protect us from what was coming out of that child's mouth."
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Before Julian could process the terrifying implication of her words, a sudden, violent crash echoed from the front hallway, followed by the sound of shattering glass and Martha’s muffled scream.
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