Chapter 1
The heavy mahogany dining table felt less like a piece of furniture and more like a courtroom bench under the harsh, chandelier-lit gloom. Richard loomed over the polished wood, his chest heaving inside the tight confines of his expensive black suit. His dark hair was slicked back, accentuating the sharp, unforgiving lines of his jaw and the furious glare locked onto his daughter. Elena sat opposite him, her crisp white button-down shirt stark against the dark surroundings. A thin line of crimson from a cut on her temple tracked slowly down her cheek, catching the light before disappearing along her jawline. She didn't flinch. Instead, she lifted a linen napkin, pressing it gently to the wound with a quiet, deliberate motion that only seemed to fuel Richard’s mounting panic. At the head of the table, Grandmother Beatrice gripped the armrests of her chair, her diamond rings flashing in a frantic blur as her mouth hung open in silent horror. Elena lowered the napkin, her voice remarkably steady in the suffocating silence. "You shouldn't have done that," she whispered, her eyes never leaving her father's sweating face. Beatrice gasped, her frail hands trembling against the ornate lace of her dress. "Who are you calling?" she demanded, the question cracking through the room like a dry twig. Richard reacted instantly, lunging forward with a guttural roar, slamming his palms flat onto the tabletop. "Put the phone down!" he shouted, saliva flying from his lips as he stretched across the mahogany barrier. Elena ignored him entirely, her fingers tightening around the warm glass of the smartphone pressed firmly against her ear. A single tear broke free, tracking hot through the dust and blood on her cheek as she looked past her raging father into the dark hallway. "Dad," she said into the receiver.
