Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Gallery
The silence that followed Martha’s assertion hung heavy in the opulent hallway, broken only by the faint chiming of the grandfather clock in the study. Julian’s gaze bounced between his wife’s pale, trembling lips and the defiant tilt of the maid’s chin. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, a palpable manifestation of secrets that had festered beneath the pristine surface of the Vance estate for years. Victoria recovered her composure with practiced speed, smoothing the silk of her red dress down her thighs as she forced a tight, brittle smile to her face.
“You are letting a hysterical servant manipulate our son, Julian,” Victoria said, her voice regaining its sharp edge. “Martha’s dismissal was finalized twenty minutes ago for gross insubordination. She has no business whispering nonsense into a six-year-old’s head about songs that don't exist.”
Julian didn't answer immediately. He knelt down beside Leo, whose small body was still trembling as he clung to Martha’s apron. Gently, Julian pried his son’s fingers away from the coarse fabric, lifting the boy into his arms. Leo buried his face in the crook of Julian’s neck, his breathing ragged and uneven.
“Go to your room, Leo,” Julian instructed softly, kissing the top of the boy’s light brown head. “Mrs. Gable will take you up and read to you. I need to talk to Martha and Victoria.”
Leo shook his head violently against his father’s shoulder. “Don't let them send her away, daddy. She knows about the music box behind the library wall. She knows where mother hides the letters.”
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. He slowly turned his head to look directly at his wife. The blood had completely drained from Victoria’s face, leaving her skin the color of old parchment. The library wall was solid mahogany, installed by the estate's previous owners decades ago, and as far as Julian knew, there were no hidden compartments, let alone letters that Victoria should be keeping secret.
“What letters, Leo?” Julian asked, his voice dangerously low.
“The ones with the red ribbon,” Leo mumbled, his voice muffled by the wool of Julian’s suit jacket. “The ones mother burns in the fireplace when you are away on business.”
Victoria lunged forward, her hand outstretched as if to snatch the boy away, but Julian raised his free arm, blocking her path with a look of pure stone. The sudden violence of her movement betrayed her guilt more effectively than any confession could have.
“Stay back, Victoria,” Julian commanded, his eyes flashing with a cold fury she had never witnessed in their six years of marriage. He turned back to Martha, who was slowly rising from the marble floor, dusting off her black skirt with slow, deliberate movements.
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“Pack your things, Martha,” Julian said flatly. “You aren't leaving the estate tonight. You’re moving to the guest house until I find out what is buried in my walls.”
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