Chapter 2 - The Early ArrivalDeep inside the cavernous master bedroom of the East Wing, Lily drifted in and out of consciousness. Her forehead throbbed where it had hit the table, wrapped roughly in a damp cloth by Mrs. Brooks, who had risked Elizabeth's wrath by defying the order to throw her in the basement quarters.
"Rest, child," Mrs. Brooks whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from Lily's forehead. "Just rest. I've called a doctor, but he won't be here for an hour."
"I... I have to finish the dinner prep..." Lily mumbled, trying to push herself up.
"You'll do no such thing," Mrs. Brooks said firmly, pressing her back down. "Elizabeth has gone too far this time. Even Richard is furious, though he's too cowardly to stop her completely."
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the East Wing flew open.
Footsteps—fast, heavy, and furious—echoed down the private hallway. They weren't the measured, aristocratic strides of Richard or Elizabeth. They were the rapid, terrifyingly aggressive strides of a man who had just flown halfway across the world fourteen days ahead of schedule, driven by a gut instinct he couldn't shake.
Ethan Blackwell burst into the room.
His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his tie pulled loose, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. He had closed the European acquisition in record time, unable to shake the crushing weight in his chest—a strange, unnamable terror that something was terribly wrong with his home.
His eyes scanned the room, bypassing Mrs. Brooks entirely, and locked onto the bed.
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When he saw Lily—pale as a ghost, a bandage staining red across her forehead, trembling violently beneath a thin blanket—the air left Ethan's lungs. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"What..." Ethan's voice was a low, terrifying growl. "...happened here?"
