Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the Nursery
The wind howls against the reinforced glass of the west wing nursery. Theo is fast asleep in his bed, clutching the wooden toy train to his chest like a talisman. Sitting in the armchair beside him is Elena, the quiet, observant nanny who has cared for Theo since his mother passed away under mysterious circumstances two years ago.
A soft click echoes from the hallway. The brass doorknob turns, rotating slowly, testing the lock.
Elena doesn’t flinch. She stands up smoothly, her eyes fixed on the door. It pushes open an inch, revealing a sliver of darkness. A small, gloved hand slides through, dangling a heavy metal keyring—one stolen from the housekeeper's station.
Before the intruder can slip inside, Elena steps across the room and throws the door wide open.
Standing in the dim corridor is Felix. He looks small, haunted, and utterly unlike the pampered heir he pretends to be. In his hand, he holds a heavy silver candlestick.
“You shouldn’t be in here, Felix,” Elena says softly, her voice devoid of fear.
“It’s my room! It was always my room before he came!” Felix snarls, his face contorting into an expression that is far too vicious for an eight-year-old child. He raises the candlestick. “Mother said if I don't get the train back and put it in the incinerator, the bad men will come for us both.”
Elena takes a measured step forward, her eyes narrowing as she analyzes the boy. For months, she has suspected that Bernadette has been using Felix as a psychological weapon against the toddler, grooming him to terrorize his younger brother while keeping her own hands clean.
“Your mother is lying to you, Felix,” Elena says gently, kneeling to his eye level. “She’s using you to do her dirty work. Look at what happened to her downstairs tonight. Luciano is done protecting her.”
Felix hesitates, the heavy silver slipping slightly in his sweaty palm. “He hit her... I saw it from the landing. He never hits her.”
“Because she crossed a line she can't uncross,” a deep voice booms from the doorway.
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Both turn to see Luciano standing in the frame, his shadow stretching long across the hardwood floor. His face is a mask of stone, but his eyes reveal a devastating mix of heartbreak and absolute fury as he looks at his eldest son.
“Daddy...” Felix whispers, dropping the candlestick with a loud, metallic clatter that rings through the silent wing.
