Chapter 10 - The Descent
Getting out of the attic was the easy part.
Getting down three flights of stairs without being seen was practically impossible.
Isabella’s legs were weak from years of confinement.
She stumbled on the steep, narrow steps.
Elena held her tightly, supporting her weight.
“Quiet,” Elena whispered as they reached the second-floor landing.
“We just need to get to the East Wing.”
They crept down the grand hallway.
Lightning flashed, throwing long, monstrous shadows across the walls.
Isabella stared in awe at the house she hadn't seen in a decade.
She reached out to touch the expensive wallpaper.
“Keep moving,” Elena urged softly.
They were halfway across the landing when the overhead lights suddenly blazed on.
The brightness was blinding.
“Going somewhere?” a cold voice rang out.
Valentina stood at the top of the grand staircase.
She was fully dressed in a sharp suit, holding the silver handgun.
Beside her stood the massive security guard Elena had distracted earlier.
He looked furious.
Valentina’s eyes darted to Isabella, and a look of pure hatred crossed her face.
“You ungrateful little brat,” Valentina hissed at the girl.
Isabella whimpered and hid behind Elena.
“It's over, Valentina,” Elena said loudly, trying to sound brave.
“Marco is right down the hall. I will scream.”
Valentina chuckled darkly.
“He took a very strong sleeping pill tonight. Courtesy of my special tea.”
“You could fire a cannon in here, and he wouldn't wake up.”
Valentina raised the gun, aiming it directly at Elena.
“I warned you about your brother. I warned you about your own life.”
“But some pests just refuse to listen.”
“Take the girl back to the attic,” Valentina ordered the guard.
“And throw this maid off the balcony. We’ll call it a tragic suicide.”
The massive guard lunged forward.
Elena didn't think. She just reacted.
She grabbed a heavy silver candlestick from a side table and swung it with all her might.
It cracked against the guard’s knee.
He roared in pain and stumbled backward.
“Run, Isabella! Scream!” Elena yelled.
Isabella didn't hesitate.
She ran down the hallway toward the East Wing, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Papa! Papa, help me!”
Valentina’s face twisted in sheer panic.
She aimed the gun at the running girl.
Elena threw herself at Valentina, tackling the older woman to the floor.
The gun went off with a deafening BANG.
The bullet shattered a crystal chandelier above them.
Glass rained down like deadly hail.
Elena and Valentina wrestled on the carpet, clawing and punching.
Valentina was stronger than she looked.
She smashed the butt of the gun into Elena’s cheek.
Elena’s vision flashed white with pain.
She fell back, tasting blood in her mouth.
Valentina stood up, gasping for breath, and pointed the gun down at Elena’s head.
“Goodbye, you little rat.”
Before she could pull the trigger, a voice echoed through the hallway.
A voice thick with sleep, confusion, and rising fury.
“Valentina? What in God's name is happening out here?”
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Marco Moretti stood in the doorway of the East Wing.
And clutching his arm, sobbing hysterically, was a teenage girl who looked exactly like his dead wife.
