Chapter 3 - The Cold Reception in the East ParlorDown in the East Parlor, the atmosphere was far from welcoming.
Meredith stood before the fireplace, her arms crossed over her tailored cream coat, glaring down at Emily and Sophie like an aristocratic hawk inspecting wounded mice.
"Listen to me, you little scavengers," Meredith hissed softly, ensuring Mr. Alvarez was out of earshot by the coffee station. "Men like Edward Haynes do not have daughters. They have portfolios, estates, and mistresses who know better than to spawn. Whatever game your mother taught you to play, it ends here. Security is already on their way to escort you out into the snow."
Sophie buried her face against Emily’s shoulder, a silent tear finally breaking free and tracking down her cold cheek. "Em... I want Mommy. Why is it so cold here?"
Emily tightened her grip on her sister, her small jaw trembling, but her dark eyes flashed with an eerie, fierce defiance that mirrored Edward's own.
"Our mommy is resting," Emily said, her voice shaking but clear. "And our daddy is coming. Mr. Alvarez said so."
"Your father is currently signing a multi-billion-dollar merger and wouldn't wipe his shoes on children like you," Meredith sneered, stepping closer, her diamond rings catching the firelight. "You are dirt. You are a mistake. A pathetic little—"
CLANG.
The heavy mahogany double doors of the East Parlor slammed open against the wall with a force that rattled the crystal chandelier overhead.
The room went dead silent.
There stood Edward Haynes. His hair was slightly disheveled from his frantic sprint down the stairs, his expensive tie pulled askew, and his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. His face was pale, drained of all color, his eyes wide, wild, and blazing with a terrifying intensity.
Meredith turned around, a sweet, practiced smile instantly plastering across her face. "Oh, Edward, darling! I am so glad you're here. Some filthy street children broke into the lobby claiming—"
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Edward didn't even look at her. He didn't blink. His entire field of vision had narrowed entirely to the two small figures huddled by the marble fireplace.
To the scuffed Mary Janes. To the pink coat missing a button. To the golden hair and the familiar, heartbreaking curve of a little girl's cheek.
