Chapter 2 - The Chamber in the West Wing
The iron bolt on the heavy nursery door clicked into place with finality.
Inside, Leo sat in the corner of the vast, hollow room, refusing the soft wool blankets and the imported toys scattered across the hand-tufted carpet.
His breath still rattled in his throat, each inhale a shuddering reminder of the ballroom’s humiliation.
Victoria entered without knocking, the scent of expensive white lilies suffocating the quiet air.
She knelt in front of the boy, her smile gone, replaced by a mask of cold aristocratic frustration.
"You made a fool of me in front of the governor, Leo."
The boy pulled his knees tighter to his chest and buried his face in his small tuxedo sleeve.
"Look at me when I speak to you."
She reached out, catching his chin with sharp, sculpted nails, forcing his tear-stained face upward.
"You are a Vance, not a gutter mongrel."
"Tomorrow, your father and I will announce our marriage, and you will behave like a civilized heir."
Leo tore his face from her grip with surprising ferocity, biting his bottom lip until it bled.
He had not uttered a single spoken word in eight months, retreating into a fortress of absolute muteness.
Yet in that silence lived an ancient, unbreakable defiance that terrified Victoria to her core.
She stood up abruptly, brushing dust from her silk knees with a flick of pure disgust.
"Starve him until morning if he refuses his supper," she commanded the nanny hovering in the doorway.
Across the estate, deep inside the oak-paneled study, Julian poured a scotch without offering one to the woman standing before his desk.
Clara remained upright under the harsh green glare of the desk lamp, her hands clasped in front of her apron.
May you like
Julian set the glass down with a sharp crack against the mahogany.
"You were buried in Lake Charles four years ago, Sarah."
