Chapter 2 - Locked From Within
The metallic snap of the heavy brass deadbolt echoed through the vaulted room. Julian shifted instantly, tucking Lily firmly behind his legs. His senses sharpened, adrenaline washing away the fog of grief.
"Step away from the coffin, Julian," Evelyn commanded. Her aristocratic warmth had vanished, replaced by the calculating matriarch who had controlled the Blackwood fortune for four decades. "You’ve always been fragile. Always ruled by your sentimentality. If you make a scene here, in front of our family elders, it will ruin everything we have built."
"You murdered my wife," Julian hissed, his teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached. He looked toward his father, Arthur, who remained slumped in his chair. Arthur’s eyes were watery, his bearded chin sagging onto his chest, but his finger remained faintly pointed at his wife. "Dad... what did she do to you?"
"Your father’s mind has been failing for months," Evelyn said coldly. "He barely knows what day it is."
"He knows enough to accuse you!"
Julian reached into his pocket to grab his phone, intending to call the state police, but his fingers found only empty fabric. His coat had been taken when he entered the vestibule; his personal driver had taken his overcoat and his briefcase.
"Looking for this?" Evelyn held up Julian’s sleek phone, slipping it casually into her leather clutch. "You aren't calling anyone. The funeral procession leaves at dawn. Clara will be buried in the private family mausoleum. The tomb will be sealed with concrete. Then, you and Lily will go abroad. To Switzerland. You need a rest, Julian. A long, supervised rest."
"Over my dead body."
"That can be arranged if you become inconvenient," she replied without a shred of hesitation.
Julian glanced around the room. There were twelve guests in total—mostly ancient board members and distant cousins dependent on Evelyn’s trust fund payouts. None of them moved. None of them looked surprised. They stared straight ahead, their silence bought and paid for.
Lily tugged hard on Julian’s trousers. "Daddy," she whispered against his calf. "The blue ribbon. Clara gave me the blue ribbon before she stopped moving."
Julian remembered Clara’s favorite vintage recorder—a tiny dictaphone she tied with a blue velvet ribbon, used for dictating her research notes.
Evelyn caught the girl's murmur. Her gaze hardened into pure venom. "Guards. Take the child up to the nursery. Sedate her if she screams."
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The two armed guards stepped forward, separating, coming at Julian from both sides. Julian grabbed an antique bronze candelabra from the pedestal beside Clara’s coffin, swinging it with all the fury in his veins. The heavy metal struck the first guard across the temple, dropping him instantly to the rug.
"Run, Lily!" Julian roared, scooping her up as the second guard drew a weapon, the black barrel pointing directly at his daughter's head.
