Chapter 2 - The Whispers by the FountainParamedics rushed forward with oxygen masks and thermal blankets, shouting over the crackle of the collapsing roof. Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the damp Newport air as local fire trucks finally tore down the private drive.
Clara let out a ragged breath, lowering Leo onto a stretcher. A medic immediately placed an oxygen mask over the boy’s face, but Leo kept his wide, terrified eyes locked on his grandfather.
"Is everyone accounted for?" a firefighter barked, stepping up to the group. "Any pets? Anyone else inside?"
Eleanor stepped forward before anyone else could speak, her voice smooth, rehearsed, and utterly chilling. "No one else is inside, Officer. Just our head housekeeper, who foolishly ignored safety protocols and ran back into a collapsing building to rescue... well, our nephew."
She said the word nephew like it tasted like spoiled milk.
Richard Sterling tapped his cane against the cobblestone. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that commanded immediate submission, honed by decades of corporate ruthlessness. "The boy's room was on the east wing ground floor years ago. It was a structural oversight that he was placed in the upper library suite during tonight's gala. A regrettable administrative error."
Clara’s blood ran colder than the ocean breeze. Administrative error? Leo’s bedroom hadn't been moved by mistake. Eleanor had personally ordered the staff to relocate Leo to the secluded upper library suite three days ago, claiming the downstairs rooms were needed for visiting dignitaries who never even showed up.
"It wasn't an error," Clara said, pushing herself up from the grass. Her voice shook, but her gaze was laser-sharp as she fixed it on Eleanor. "You locked the fire door at the end of the west gallery from the outside, didn't you? The latch was bolted. I had to kick it through."
Eleanor’s facade didn't crack, but her pupils constricted like a cornered viper's. "Clara, you are suffering from severe smoke inhalation and oxygen deprivation. You are hallucinating. The heat has scrambled your senses."
"I am completely in my right mind," Clara snapped, stepping forward, ignoring the paramedics trying to check her pulse. "You knew he was up there. When I tried to go back in, you grabbed my wrist. You told me the corridor was caving in—but the corridor didn't cave in until after I pulled him out. You wanted him to burn."
Silence fell over the courtyard, broken only by the angry crackle of timber and the hiss of water cannons hitting the chateau's burning facade.
Richard Sterling turned his heavy-set frame toward Clara. His eyes, cold and slate-gray, stared down at her with undisguised venom. "Watch your tongue, woman. You are an employee of this estate. An at-will employee whose contract terminates effective immediately. And as for trespassing on family matters—you would do well to remember who owns this town, this county, and every single judge who sits on its bench."
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On the stretcher, Leo pulled the oxygen mask down an inch, his voice trembling as he looked at his grandfather. "Why didn't you tell them to look for me, Grandfather? Aunt Eleanor told the guards not to check the upper floor."
Richard didn't even look down at the boy. He simply turned his back, muttered something to his legal counsel, and walked toward a waiting black Mercedes.
