Chapter 8 - The Secret in the AtticUpstairs in the modest staff quarters over the garage, Evelyn sat on the edge of her narrow twin bed, gently stroking Lily’s hair as the little girl drifted back to sleep. Her heart was still pounding against her ribs. She had packed their two small duffel bags, ready to flee into the snowy night. She couldn't risk staying in a place where people like Celeste held so much power.
Suddenly, a soft knock echoed at the wooden door.
Evelyn froze. She crept across the floor and opened the door a crack.
Mason stood in the hallway, coatless, his tie loosened, looking exhausted and deeply humbled. He wasn't the arrogant billionaire host of a high-society gala; he looked like a man seeking forgiveness.
“Evelyn. Please don't pack,” Mason said softly, his voice steady and earnest. “The police have taken Celeste and Julian away. They’re gone. You are completely safe here.”
“Safe?” Evelyn let out a bitter, heartbroken laugh, tears spilling over her lashes. “Mr. Vance... Mason, your guests looked at me like I was a criminal. My daughter was terrified by screaming and police sirens. We don’t belong in this world. I’m resigning, effective immediately.”
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Mason stepped forward, gently placing his hand against the edge of the door to prevent her from closing it. “You belong here more than you realize, Evelyn. And I need to show you something. Please... just five minutes.”
Reluctantly, driven by a strange pull she couldn't explain, Evelyn followed him out of the quarters, down the corridor, and up a narrow, hidden spiral staircase leading to the very top of the estate’s old Victorian clock tower.
