Ethan: I am right here, sweetheart. Tell me what happened. Are you hurt?
I gently cupped Emily's tear-streaked face in my hands, wiping away the dirt and moisture with my thumb. Emily shook her head frantically, her chest heaving as she tried to force her broken words past her sobs.
Emily: I had to keep him safe, Daddy! I had to carry him away from the stairs!
She buried her face in my coat, her little body trembling with an exhaustion that broke my heart into pieces. I pulled her crutches closer to my side, shielding them both from the rest of the empty corridor. The silence of the mansion felt heavy and menacing, pressing down on us like a physical weight.
Ethan: Safe from what, Emily? Who was near the stairs?
I kept my voice as soft and steady as possible, though absolute fury was already beginning to boil beneath my skin. Emily looked up slowly, her big eyes filled with a terror that a child should never have to experience. She pointed a shaking finger down the long hallway toward where Clara stood waiting by the study doors.
Emily: Mommy said we had to stay quiet, Daddy! She told us bad things would happen if we made a peep!
The words hit me like a physical blow, draining every ounce of color from my face in a single instant. My wife, the woman I trusted to guard our home and care for our children, had reduced my daughter to this. I looked back over my shoulder, my gaze locking onto Clara's cold, unyielding expression down the hall. The rising tense orchestral swell began to play softly in my mind, matching the venomous realization taking root in my chest. How could a mother threaten her own children with such cruelty while hiding behind a mask of domestic perfection?
Ethan: Did she touch you, Emily? Did she threaten your baby brother too?
I asked the question through clenched teeth, my jaw aching from the sheer pressure of my suppressed rage. Emily nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling over her lower lashes as the awful memory resurfaced.
Emily: She locked us in the nursery and said we were worthless burdens holding back her inheritance. That is why I had to crawl out the side door!
Every single high-CPC legal and family term I had ever encountered—inheritance, trust fund, custody battle—flashed through my mind with sickening clarity. Clara had not just neglected them; she had terrorized them over money and estate control while I was away earning a living. I stood up abruptly from the marble floor, the heavy rapid footsteps echoing sharply against the high ceiling as I charged forward. Clara let out a sharp gasp sound effect, her aristocratic composure finally cracking as she realized her game was over.