Chapter 4 - The Unthinkable Identity Of The Second Cellar Prisoner
Before the guards could move toward the hatch, another raspy, weak voice drifted up from the deeper recesses of the cellar.
“Arthur... if you’re up there... please help me...” the voice groaned, followed by the faint sound of rattling iron chains.
Arthur’s face turned completely white, every drop of blood draining from his features as recognition struck him like physical lightning.
That voice belonged to Julian, his older brother and former corporate partner, who had supposedly died in a private plane crash.
“Julian?” Arthur gasped, stepping back toward the hatch with disbelieving eyes fixed on the impenetrable darkness below.
“How is that possible? Your memorial service was held three years ago in front of the entire New York elite!”
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Clara shuddered, wrapping her arms around her shivering body as she looked down into the abyss.
“He survived the crash, Arthur,” Clara whispered hoarsely. “And someone in this house locked him away to steal our company.”
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