Chapter 2 - Cold Hands, Warm Lies
Paramedics swarmed the foyer within minutes, their heavy boots scuffing the spotless marble floor. Clara was pulled back into the shadows beneath the curved staircase, her uniform cuffs stained a deep, rust red. She watched them stabilize Christian's neck, slipping an oxygen mask over his mouth.
Evelyn immediately glided forward, weeping with theatrical perfection as she reached out to brush Christian's limp hand. ""Darling, hold on! Please, you have to fight!""
The chief medic signaled his team. ""Severe head trauma, possible intracranial bleed. Let's move!""
As they wheeled the gurney toward the front doors, Christian’s eyes fluttered. He didn't look at Evelyn, despite her desperate performance. His gaze cut across the hall, locking onto Clara standing silently against the column. In his clouded eyes, there was no gratitude for Evelyn's drama—only an unspoken, terrifying plea aimed directly at Clara.
""You're his fiancée?"" the paramedic asked Evelyn.
""Yes,"" Evelyn sobbed, dabbing at pristine mascara. ""I was coming down for dinner when I heard a crash. He was already on the floor.""
May you like
Clara kept her lips sealed, though her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird. Evelyn hadn't been coming down for dinner. Ten minutes before the fall, Clara had seen Evelyn whispering heatedly in the study with Christian’s half-brother, Julian.
The front doors slammed shut, taking Christian away into the night. Evelyn turned slowly on her heels, her tears vanishing like smoke. She locked eyes with Clara, her voice dropping into an icy hiss. ""Clean up the mess, Clara. And throw that cloth away. Every single trace.""
