Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Hallway
"Don't look up, Daddy, she watches the reflection in the window," Clara whispered so quietly that Julian had to lean down close to her mouth to catch the words.
Julian’s breath hitched in his throat. "Who watches, sweetheart? Tell me everything."
"Elena," Clara whimpered, her fingers gripping his sleeve. "She talks to the walls when you're at the office. She says this house belonged to someone named Margaret first, and that we have to be thrown out."
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Margaret. The name struck Julian like a physical shockwave. Margaret was the name of his late wife, Clara’s biological mother, who had mysteriously vanished from this very estate five years ago before Julian ever met Elena at a charity gala. The police had ruled it a tragic disappearance, but Julian had always harbored a gnawing, agonizing doubt that he shoved deep down to survive the grief. Now, hearing that name slip from his daughter's lips in connection with Elena's cruelty, the fragile foundation of his second marriage shattered into dust. He gently kissed the top of Clara's head and stood up, his jaw set in a hard, determined line. He marched down the dimly lit hallway toward the master suite, where the sound of hushed, hurried conversation drifted from behind the heavy oak door. Elena was on the phone, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper as she discussed wire transfers and property deeds with an unknown legal representative. Julian reached out his hand, wrapped his fingers around the brass doorknob, and slowly pushed it open without knocking.
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