Chapter 4: Shadows of the Past
The following morning, sunlight poured through the tall arched windows of Julian’s private study, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Maeve sat in a high-backed leather chair that swallowed her small frame, a warm cup of cocoa cradled in her hands. She had spent the early hours by Leo’s side, watching his breathing stabilize before Mrs. Gable finally coaxed her away for breakfast.
Julian sat across from her behind a massive mahogany desk, pouring over a stack of yellowed photographs and legal documents. He looked exhausted, the dark circles beneath his eyes hinting at a sleepless night spent reviewing the ledger he had shown Maeve the previous day.
"Your mother, Clara, was a brilliant woman," Julian began, breaking the silence without looking up from the papers. "We worked together at the Vance Institute years ago. She dedicated her life to medical research, striving to create affordable treatments for respiratory illnesses that plague impoverished districts like the one you came from."
Maeve listened intently, hungry for any detail about the mother who had vanished into the freezing fog three weeks ago, leaving them in the care of a negligent neighbor who had eventually abandoned them. "Why did she leave us in the alley?" Maeve asked, the question burning like acid in her chest.
Julian finally looked up, his expression burdened with a profound weight. "She didn't leave by choice, Maeve. Clara discovered something dangerous within the pharmaceutical conglomerate that funded our research. She realized they were deliberately withholding a cost-effective cure to maximize profits on expensive therapies. When she threatened to expose them, she became a target."
The room seemed to grow colder despite the roaring fire. Maeve set her cocoa down, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the armrests. "A target? You mean someone hurt her?"
"I don't know the full extent of it," Julian admitted, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. "She disappeared the night her laboratory was broken into and ransacked. The police ruled it a random burglary, but I know better. They were searching for her research notes—the very notes she hid inside the lining of that tattered coat you refuse to take off."
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Maeve’s breath hitched. She instinctively touched the hem of her brown coat hanging in the hallway closet. Her mother had sewn the heavy fabric herself, whispering that it was their family armor.
"They are still looking for those notes, Maeve," Julian warned gravely. "And now that you’ve surfaced with you and your brother, our lives are intertwined in a dangerous game. But I promise you, I will protect you, and we will find out what happened to Clara."
