Chapter 7 - The Shadow on the Threshold
The heavy oak doors groaned as Evelyn pushed them open, stepping out of the suffocating ballroom and into the long, marble-lined concourse of the estate. The cold night air drifted in through the open grand entrance down the hall, carrying the smell of rain and wet asphalt—a welcome shock against her warm, flushed skin.
Sophie buried her face deep into the crook of Evelyn’s neck, her small shoulders shivering as her tears soaked through the purple silk of her mother’s dress.
"Is the bad man coming after us?" Sophie whimpered, her voice muffled against Evelyn's skin.
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"No, baby," Evelyn whispered, keeping her pace swift and steady. "He stays in there with his lies. We go home."
Behind them, the faint sound of clicking heels echoed down the gallery. Evelyn didn't slow down, but her jaw tightened. She recognized the sharp, rhythmic cadence. It wasn't Andrew. It was Violet—the bride—whose white silk gown rustled against the floorboards as she hurried to catch up before they reached the front steps.
