Chapter 11 - Holding a crying six year old girl tightly against her chest, a fierce protective mother dismantles a wicked socialite conspiracy inside a modern American kitchen.
As Marcus dragged Bridget kicking and screaming out of the kitchen, the heavy oak doors banged shut behind them, restoring quiet.
Little Lily buried her face in Clara's neck, whimpering softly from the lingering shock of the brutal golf club attack.
Clara rocked her gently, her brown hair swaying as she walked over to the kitchen island to grab a warm damp towel.
"Let me look at that nose, baby girl; mommy is right here and everything is going to be alright," Clara cooed tenderly.
Nathan watched them with a heart full of awe, realizing the incredible strength of the woman he had lost and miraculously found.
"I'll have our private physician fly in from Manhattan immediately to run a full medical evaluation on Lily," Nathan offered anxiously.
"She just needs peace, quiet, and her parents right now, Nathan; no more doctors, no more strangers," Clara answered firmly.
Nathan nodded in agreement, pulling up a sleek leather barstool and sitting down right beside them at the quartz countertop.
"We're leaving this mansion tonight, moving into the private estate in Westchester where my mother can never reach us again," Nathan said.
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"Good, because these marble floors hold too many dark memories of the monsters who tried to destroy us," Clara agreed resolutely.
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