Chapter 17 - STORM OVER BLACKWOOD BAY
Every step up the winding iron stairs groaned under Mark’s weight. Rain poured through shattered glass windows along the tower, soaking Mark’s clothes as he climbed floor by floor.
When he finally reached the top chamber—the old lantern room—he pushed open the heavy wooden door.
The lantern room was surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass panes, illuminated only by flashes of lightning cracking across the black sky. Standing in the center of the room, lit by the dramatic flashes, was a woman.
Mark froze.
She was wearing a black trench coat. Her hair was cut in the exact shoulder-length style Clara had worn. Her face—every contour, every curve of her cheekbones, the small faint freckle near her right cheek—was identical to Clara.
Holding her tight against her chest was little Sophie, her mouth covered with heavy silver tape, her eyes wide with frantic, terrified tears. Sophie wriggled violently, reaching her tiny hands toward Mark.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Sophie cried behind the tape.
"Shh, little bird," the woman whispered, stroking Sophie’s hair with a hand wearing a sharp silver ring. "Daddy’s here now."
"Release her, Sophia," Mark commanded, his voice deadly quiet as he took a slow step into the room, holding up the heavy Black Lily ledger. "You have what you wanted. The ledger is right here. Take it and let my daughter go."
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The woman laughed—a cold, metallic sound that shattered any illusion of his sweet Clara.
"You really thought Clara died four years ago, didn't you, Mark?" Sophia sneered, her eyes glittering with madness. "Clara was weak. She fell in love with you! She wanted to betray the Syndicate and give you this ledger! So I replaced her. I took her skin, her voice, her face—and I took her place in your bed until I finished the job!"
