Chapter 3 - The Locked Cage
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Clara frantically pulled the blanket back down, her hands shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down her hollow cheeks.
“Shh! Mom, please! They’ll hear you!” she panicked, clutching my forearm with terrified strength. “You have to pretend you didn’t see anything!”
“Clara, look at me,” I demanded softly, placing my palms against her cold cheeks. “Who hurt you? Was it Everett?”
She closed her eyes, a shudder running through her entire body. “It’s all of them, Mom. They’ve turned this entire house into a trap.”
“Tell me everything. Right now.”
Clara swallowed hard, glancing nervously toward the closed bedroom door before leaning in close.
“Everett started getting angry months ago when I refused to transfer Dad’s trust fund into the Vance family account,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He said a woman in my condition couldn't manage millions. When I said no, his mother brought in a private doctor who prescribed heavy sedatives. When I refused to take them, Everett grabbed me... he held me down.”
My stomach churned with dark rage, but I kept my breath steady. “And the bruises?”
“That was two nights ago,” Clara sobbed. “I tried to leave. I packed a bag and made it to the foyer, but Warren locked the front gates. Everett dragged me back up the stairs by my legs. They told me if I leave, or if I tell anyone, they’ll use their connections to declare me mentally unfit.”
“They can’t just do that,” I said firmly.
“They are doing it!” Clara whispered in sheer terror. “Celeste has been secretly recording me whenever they provoke me into having a panic attack. They’re editing the videos to make me look insane. They have legal papers drafted for tomorrow morning. They’re going to force me to sign over custody of the baby and full control of Dad’s estate before I even go into labor!”
Downstairs, the sound of Everett’s rich, confident laughter echoed up through the floorboards. He was celebrating his approaching victory.
May you like
I leaned down and kissed Clara’s damp forehead, wrapping my arms around her trembling shoulders.
“Rest now, my sweet girl,” I whispered into her hair. “They think they are dealing with a helpless widow. They have no idea who I really am.”
