Chapter 8 - The True Snake
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While Wesley was in the cellar, Ruth remained upstairs in Norah’s bedroom, carefully changing the bedding and placing a cool, damp cloth across the young girl's forehead.
Norah’s breathing had normalized, but her eyes remained wide, tracking Ruth’s every movement with an intense, vulnerable gratitude.
Norah reached out, tapping the edge of her nightstand. Ruth looked over and smiled softly.
“You’re safe now, Norah,” Ruth whispered, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “He knows everything.”
Norah picked up her phone with steady fingers and typed a quick message:
Thank you for staying. Everyone else was afraid of her.
Ruth’s heart ached. She reached out and took Norah’s small, pale hand in her own. “I know what it’s like to have no voice when people are hurting you. I wasn't going to let her touch you again.”
The door opened softly, and Wesley walked into the room.
He had shed his heavy coat. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms crossed with faint scars from his younger years on the docks. He looked exhausted, the weight of the night taking its physical toll.
He stood at the foot of the bed, staring at his sister for a long moment before his eyes drifted to Ruth.
For the first time since Ruth had started working at the estate six months ago, Wesley Cain looked directly into her eyes without his usual cold, distant authority.
“Dr. Sterling told me what you did,” Wesley said, his voice low and rich. “He said if you hadn't administered CPR before he arrived, Norah would have suffered severe brain damage.”
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“I just did what was necessary, Mr. Cain,” Ruth said modestly, standing up to give him space beside his sister.
Wesley stepped closer, stopping only inches from her. “No. You protected my sister when I was too blind to see what was happening right under my roof.”
