Chapter 7 - Blood Ties
""How could they know?"" Clara gasped, clutching the locket against her chest. ""I’ve lived in anonymity since I was a child. My mother never spoke to anyone from the high court.""
""Marcus was foolish, but he wasn't reckless,"" Julian said, his voice laced with old sorrow. ""He registered your birth with the High Chancery before he fled. A safety net, in case he ever needed to claim your birthright. Genevieve paid a clerk to monitor those records. The moment you applied for domestic work under your real name, the clock began ticking.""
Clara felt a profound vertigo sweep over her. Her whole life of scrapings, burns from wood stoves, and freezing winters hadn't been an accident of fate. It had been an engineered exile.
""So the pecan pie wasn't just a coincidence,"" Clara realized, horrified. ""They ordered it to be made. They engineered a circumstance where either you died, or I took the blame and got executed.""
""A double assassination with a single pastry,"" Julian nodded grimly. ""Brilliant, cold, and entirely Genevieve.""
Suddenly, the heavy door handle jiggled. The faint, rhythmic tapping of leather boots echoed in the foyer outside the suite.
May you like
Julian’s hand moved with lightning speed, gripping Clara’s waist and pulling her into the deep alcove behind the heavy velvet window drapes. The scent of cedarwood, gunpowder, and Julian's proximity overwhelmed her senses as he brought his finger to her lips.
Through the narrow slit in the fabric, Clara watched as the door creaked open, revealing the silhouetted figure of Cousin Richard holding a polished brass syringe.
