Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Glass
The Voss estate on Long Island was a fortress of marble, steel, and silence. Cora was given a room on the third floor, fully equipped with a state-of-the-art medical bay down the corridor. She spent her first three days treating minor lacerations and bullet grazes on Julian’s enforcers, maintaining a cold, professional wall.
On the fourth night, searching for sterile gauze, Cora took a wrong turn down the west wing. She found a heavy oak door left ajar. Inside was a bedroom preserved in timeless elegance, untouched by dust, filled with framed sketches and a white grand piano.
On the bedside table sat a portrait of a young girl with bright, laughter-filled eyes. Next to it was a medical chart from St. Jude’s Hospital dated ten years ago.
Cora picked up the chart, her eyes scanning the faded ink. Elena Voss. Cardiac arrest following delayed surgical intervention. Below it was the signature of the attending chief surgeon who had refused to operate without upfront payment.
The signature belonged to Dr. Arthur Whitaker. Cora's father.
A icy grip settled over her stomach. Julian hadn't brought her here by accident. Her entire life—her father’s downward spiral, the debts, the sudden summons to the auction—had been orchestrated.
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"You weren't supposed to come into this room," a dark voice rasped behind her.
Cora turned slowly. Julian stood in the doorway, a half-empty glass of scotch in his hand, his eyes burning with a terrifying mix of grief and hatred.
