Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Hallway
By dawn, the Vance manor was draped in an oppressive, theatrical silence. The grand velvet curtains of the master suite were drawn tight against the morning sun. Dr. Sterling, a physician bought and paid for by Julian years ago, paced the upper corridors with a grave, practiced countenance, murmuring about cardiac arrest and failing pulses.
Clara remained locked in the scullery, peeling potatoes under the watchful, hostile eyes of Chef Morrison. The burly man hadn't spoken a word since sunrise, his thick arms crossed over his flour-dusted chest, eyes lingering on the back of Clara’s neck with unmistakable malice.
""You should be in iron shackles,"" Morrison finally grunted, spitting onto the stone floor. ""Master Julian took you in out of pity, and you repay him by spoiling the master's hearth.""
Clara kept her knife steady, carving away a potato eye with surgical precision. ""If I wanted to kill him, Morrison, I wouldn't have baked a pie that carried my own family’s recipe. That’s an amateur's move, wouldn't you say?""
Morrison’s jaw twitched. He took a heavy step toward her, his breath smelling of stale tobacco. ""Clever tongue on a guttersnipe. It won't save you when Lady Genevieve assumes control of the household this evening.""
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Clara felt a chill race down her spine. ""Genevieve hasn't taken anything yet. Lord Julian is still breathing.""
""Not for long,"" Morrison whispered with a twisted, triumphant sneer, leaning down until his lips brushed her ear. ""And neither are you.""
