Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Estate
Night draped the Sterling manor in heavy, impenetrable darkness. In his second-floor quarters, Luke lay under the heavy down duvet, his eyes half-open as he listened to the rhythm of the old house. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the antique glass panes felt amplified. His body burned—not with injury, but with the sudden, violent withdrawal of the chemical cocktail he had stopped receiving twelve hours ago.
A sensation like thousands of needles pricked at his thighs and calves. It was excruciating, a searing nerve-fire that made sweat bead along his brow, but to Luke, it felt like salvation. The nerves were waking up.
Around 2:00 AM, the heavy oak door groaned on its hinges.
Luke immediately relaxed his facial muscles, allowing his head to roll slightly to the side, mimicking the hollow, vacant expression he had unknowingly worn for over a year. He slowed his breathing into shallow, rhythmic intervals.
Soft, measured footsteps crossed the Persian rug. The subtle scent of French tuberose perfume signaled Victoria’s arrival.
She approached the bedside, pausing to look down at him. In the silver moonlight, her features were sharp, stripped of the manufactured tenderness she presented to the world. She reached out, her fingers gently brushing the side of his neck to check his pulse.
"You should have stayed quiet, Luke," she murmured, barely above a breath. "Everything would have been so much simpler for you. A quiet life here, cared for, never having to worry about the company or Arthur's debts."
She pulled a small silver recorder from her pocket and placed it on the nightstand, beside a freshly poured glass of water. Beside the glass, she laid two small blue capsules.
"You'll take these in the morning," she whispered, her voice devoid of warmth. "The child won't be here to distract you tomorrow. Her adoption papers have already been expedited. A boarding school in the north will teach her proper manners."
A cold spike of adrenaline tore through Luke’s veins, threatening to shatter his calm facade. He kept his breathing steady, forcing his eyelids to remain motionless even as every muscle in his back tightened with rage.
Victoria stood there for another minute, satisfied by his silence, before turning and gliding out of the room, closing the door until the lock clicked shut.
The moment the lock caught, Luke opened his eyes. In the darkness, he gritted his teeth against the searing agony in his lower back. Slowly, with grueling effort, he willed his mind to connect with his limbs.
May you like
Beneath the sheets, his left big toe moved half an inch.
Tears of defiance stung his eyes. "You will not touch that child," he whispered into the dark room. "And you will not steal what my brother built."
