Chapter 2 - The Boy from the Ruins
Victor turned instantly, his hand dropping to the armrest of Chloe’s wheelchair in a protective, instinctual arc. The guests nearest the side entrance pulled back with visible disgust, their murmured conversations abruptly dying into silence.
Stepping out from the shadowed alcove near the garden doors was a child who looked as though he had walked straight out of a nightmare.
He appeared no older than nine or ten years old. His messy black hair was matted with grime, and his pale skin was heavily smeared with black soot and drying mud. He wore a ragged, oversized gray cotton shirt, torn at the elbows and frayed at the hem, dripping dirt onto the pristine white marble. Yet despite his desperate appearance, he did not cower. His dark, piercing eyes were eerily calm, fixed directly on Chloe.
Victor’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped beast. The sight of soot and ash triggered an immediate flash of trauma—the terrifying imagery of flame-engulfed timber and screaming smoke.
Slowly, the dirty child raised his left arm. He extended a soot-stained, calloused hand horizontally toward Chloe, reaching out across the clean air between them.
"Stay away from my daughter," Victor snapped, his voice dropping into a dangerous, lethal register that echoed sharply across the quiet hall. His hand gripped Chloe's shoulder, holding her back.
The boy did not flinch under Victor’s icy threat. He took a single, deliberate step forward, his dirt-caked hand remaining perfectly steady in the warm air.
"I won't hurt her," the boy said softly. His voice was remarkably clear, carrying a strange, resonant composure that belied his ragged exterior.
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Victor’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Security will throw you into the street in ten seconds. State your name and who sent you, or I swear—"
"I was there," the boy interrupted quietly, his dark eyes never leaving Chloe’s tear-stained face. "I was under the floorboards when the roof fell."
