David: What is going on in my house?!
Cora: David! Thank God you're home! Evelyn locked Lily in the cellar!
Evelyn: David, darling, don't listen to her drama. The child was being completely unmanageable—
Before Evelyn could finish her sentence, David spun around in intense fury and forcefully slapped her across the face. The sharp crack of the impact rang out like a gunshot against the hard marble walls. Evelyn let out a loud gasp, her head snapping sideways as she stumbled back against the kitchen island, clutching her red, burning cheek in complete shock.
Evelyn: Ah! You... you hit me?! In front of the servants?!
David: Where's the key?! If anything happens to Lily, you'll never forgive yourself!
Evelyn: David, how dare you! I am your father's wife!
David: I don't care who you are! Hand over the key before I tear this room apart!
David stepped forward, his leather-gloved hand grabbing Evelyn's wrist with crushing strength. He yanked her small beaded purse from her grip, unzipped the top pocket, and snatched a heavy brass key from inside.
Evelyn: You have no right to touch my personal belongings!
David: Nurse Clara! Where is the inner cellar door?
Clara: Down the pantry hallway, Mr. Sterling! The heavy wooden door at the end!
David didn't waste another second. He sprinted down the pantry corridor, his heavy trench coat flying behind him. I ran right behind his heels, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Nurse Clara followed close with an emergency medical bag, while Arthur dragged a trembling Evelyn along by her arm.
We reached the end of the narrow hallway. The dark, reinforced oak door stood locked tight, sealing off the cold air from the underground room below.
Cora: Lily! Baby, can you hear me?!
David: Stand back, Cora!
David raised his gloved hand, inserting the brass key into the old iron lock. He turned it frantically, forcing the rusted tumblers to click into place. With a heavy, metallic thud, the bolt disengaged, and David threw the thick wooden door wide open.
A rush of freezing, damp air poured out from the dark room. Sitting on a small wooden crate in the center of the cold stone floor was six-year-old Lily. She wore a bright yellow sweater, her small arms wrapping tightly around a plush bunny as tears streamed down her pale, terrified face.
Lily: Mommy... Daddy... I can't breathe...