Chapter 2: The Fall and the Shield
The atmospheric pressure in the room plummeted to a suffocating zero. Clara twisted her body, desperately using her hands to push the heavy glass away from her lips. But in her weakened state, her physical strength was nothing compared to the absolute, toxic hatred driving her mother-in-law.
“I said, drink it!” Beatrice roared, her aristocratic poise completely shattering as she grabbed Clara’s hair, forcing her head backward.
Suddenly, a sharp, frantic blur of movement shattered the dark symphony of the library.
Elena, a young, brave, and fiercely loyal maid who had been quietly working at the estate for less than a year, burst through the side service door. She had spent the last twenty minutes listening to the muffled shouting through the thick walls, her heart pounding against her ribs until she could no longer stand by and watch a murder unfold. Risking her own life, her job, and her freedom, Elena charged across the room.
Smash!
With a desperate, violent strike, Elena swung her arm, knocking the heavy crystal tumbler directly out of Beatrice’s hand. The glass shattered violently against the dark-wood floor, sending shards of crystal flying into the air as the deadly, poisoned whiskey splattered across the expensive Persian rug, producing a faint, chemical hiss.
“What do you think you’re doing, you pathetic peasant?!” Beatrice shrieked, her eyes bulging with absolute, unhinged fury as she looked at the spilled liquid.
In a blind rage, feeling completely untouchable inside her own mansion, Beatrice lunged forward. She didn't strike the maid; instead, she redirected her venomous anger toward Clara’s wheelchair, violently shoving the heavy structure sideways with all her might.
May you like
The wheelchair tipped over with a loud, metallic crash. Clara let out a sharp cry of agony as she was violently thrown from her seat, hitting the hard wooden floor face-first. Her paralyzed legs tangled uselessly beneath her, leaving her lying helplessly on the floor, a sharp shard of broken glass cutting into the palm of her hand.
Beatrice stood over her, smoothing down the lapels of her pristine navy suit, breathing heavily but looking completely unbothered. She felt entirely invincible. In her mind, she was the matriarch of the wealthiest family in the city. The maid’s word would mean nothing against hers. She would simply call security, have Elena arrested for assault, and find another way to finish Clara off before sunrise.
