Chapter 3 - A Whispered Promise
The air in the ballroom grew thick, almost unbreathable. At the boy's words, Victor’s breath hitched in his throat. The official police report had stated there were no survivors or witnesses from the lower levels of the summer estate. How could this child know about the collapsed floorboards?
Beside Victor, Chloe stirred. She lifted her head, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with her tiny fist. She looked at the boy’s outstretched, dirty hand, her large blue eyes wide with a fragile mix of curiosity and hope.
"May I ask her something, sir?" the boy asked Victor, his gaze shifting briefly to the green-velvet-clad father. His expression held no hostility, only an earnest, unyielding gravity.
Victor felt trapped in a suffocating web of suspicion. Was this a sick hoax orchestrated by his political rivals? Or was this child a living piece of evidence left behind by the arsonist? Victor glanced frantically around the room, noticing his elder brother, Julian, watching intently from the back row of guests, a glass of champagne frozen at his lips.
Before Victor could order the guards to seize the boy, the child stepped even closer, coming to a halt right beside the mahogany wheelchair. He lowered his soot-streaked face slightly, looking directly into Chloe’s eyes.
"Do you want to try?" the boy asked gently.
Chloe trembled. The word 'try' had been banished from her vocabulary for over a year. She had endured months of brutal physical therapy, useless electrical stimulation, and agonizing medical examinations, all resulting in utter failure. Yet, looking into the boy’s dark, solemn eyes, something ignited inside her cold chest.
"Try... what?" Chloe whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the crystal chandeliers.
May you like
"To stand," the boy replied simplicity.
"No, please!" Victor interjected desperately, reaching down to pull the boy away. "Don't do this to her! Don't give her false hope!"
