Chapter 8 - A Knock in the Dark
Clara killed the living room lamp instantly, plunging the cottage into darkness. Christian dragged himself off the sofa, pressing his back flat against the wall beside the front window, his breath catching silently in his chest.
The engine outside idled for a long, agonizing minute before shutting off. Car doors clicked open, followed by boots squelching through wet gravel.
Clara grabbed an iron fire poker from the hearth, her knuckles white. She looked at Christian; he shook his head slowly, raising a finger to his lips. He slipped behind the doorway leading into the kitchen, waiting to ambush whoever stepped across the threshold.
Three heavy raps rattled the weathered wood of the front door.
""Clara?"" a woman’s voice called out from the porch, muffled by the rain. ""Clara, open up! It's Marcus. We have a problem.""
Clara exhaled sharply, lowering the poker. She unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door open an inch. Standing in the storm was Marcus Reed, Christian’s chief legal counsel, drenched and shivering beneath an umbrella, accompanied by a frantic-looking woman.
""Marcus?"" Christian rasped, stepping out from the shadows.
The lawyer pushed inside, locking the door behind him immediately. ""Thank God you're alive, Christian. The media just dropped a breaking story fifteen minutes ago. Julian called an emergency press conference.""
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""What did he say?"" Christian demanded.
Marcus pulled a tablet from his briefcase, the screen illuminating their grim faces. ""Julian claims you didn't fall. He claims you were attacked—and the primary suspect who fled the mansion is Clara.""
