The heavy wooden double doors of the Dallas mansion swung open with a loud thud that echoed off the high marble ceilings. Eleanor Vance stepped inside, her heels clicking firmly against the polished hardwood floor. She adjusted her beige suit jacket and took a deep breath, expecting the quiet calm of her family home. Instead, the air felt heavy and cold. Something was terribly wrong.
She walked briskly down the long hallway toward the main living room. As she turned the corner, her heart dropped into her stomach. Stand in the center of the room was her young niece, Lyra, trembling uncontrollably. A maid in a dark grey uniform held the little girl's arms tightly behind her back. Lyra's blonde hair was tangled, and her face was pale with terror. Drops of fresh red blood were visible across her collarbone and the front of her striped shirt.
Standing right beside the frightened child was Victoria, Eleanor's stepmother. Victoria wore a bright purple satin blouse, her red hair tied up in a sharp bun. In her right hand, she held a large pair of silver craft scissors. Her knuckles were white as she squeezed the handles.
Eleanor stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened, then quickly narrowed into a sharp, icy glare. She felt a surge of hot anger rising in her chest, but she kept her composure. She needed to protect Lyra, and she needed to handle this with complete calm.
Victoria: You're back! I don't know what got into Lyra. She suddenly tried to harm herself with scissors!
Eleanor: Put the scissors down on the table, Victoria. Do it right now.
Victoria: I panicked and grabbed them just in time to save her! She was out of control!
Eleanor did not move a single step closer. She looked past Victoria straight into the eyes of her ten-year-old niece. Lyra was shaking so hard her knees were nearly buckling. Soft, trembling whimpers escaped from her tiny lips, but she was too afraid to speak a full word. The look in Lyra's eyes was not the look of a child who was confused or unstable. It was the look of a child who was absolutely terrified of the adult standing beside her.
Eleanor: Lyra, look at me. Did you touch those scissors?
Lyra: No... Aunt Eleanor... I didn't...
Victoria: Don't listen to her, Eleanor! She is confused! She had a breakdown while you were out at your law firm!
Eleanor: Release her arms, Martha. Let go of my niece this second.
paid to serve the family, looked down at the floor in shame. Her hands shook as she unclasped her fingers from Lyra's arms. The moment the maid let go, Lyra ran across the room as fast as her legs could carry her. She threw her small arms around Eleanor's waist, burying her face into the beige suit jacket. Eleanor wrapped her arms around the girl, feeling the little chest heaving with rapid gasps for air.
Eleanor: Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. I am right here. Nobody is going to hurt you ever again.
Victoria: Eleanor, you are making a massive mistake. I was only trying to protect this family estate from a tragedy!
Eleanor: The only danger in this house is standing right in front of me in a purple shirt.
Eleanor pulled out her phone with her free hand. She did not hesitate for a single second. She dialed her personal private security team and put the phone to her ear while keeping her eyes locked on Victoria.
Victoria: Who are you calling? What are you doing?
Eleanor: I am having security seal this entire house. Nobody leaves this property until the police and my legal team arrive.
Victoria's face lost all its color. The fake look of concern vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, furious scowl. She lowered the scissors slowly, placing them on the glass coffee table, but her glare was full of venom. Eleanor held Lyra closer, knowing that this was only the start of a bitter fight for survival inside the Vance estate.