The grand marble foyer of the McGuire estate was completely silent after the heavy oak doors slammed shut.
The scent of ozone and rain lingered in the air, mixed with the faint, suffocating smell of liturgical incense.
Lucy stood at the top of the grand staircase, her hands still gripping the polished stone railing.
Her eyes were red, and her chest heaved as she tried to process the absolute chaos that had just unfolded in her home.
She looked down at her husband, who was standing perfectly still below, his fingers tightly clenching the brass bell on the side table.
“Gerald,” Lucy’s voice trembled, breaking the heavy silence.
She walked down the stairs slowly, her long robes dragging against the marble.
“What did Harry mean? What was he shouting about? He looked so terrified… I have never seen my boy look at you with such hatred before.”
Gerald didn’t look at her.
He adjusted the gold cross hanging over his chest, his face hardening into a mask of pure ice.
“Harry is a degenerate, Lucy. He has always been a rebellious, unstable boy. You saw the people he associates with now. He brought a Mayfair into our house. He is looking for any excuse to justify his own sins.”
“But his face, Gerald! He was black and blue, wrapped in bandages!”
“Exactly Lucy!, that is because of the people he associates with not because of me!…your son has turned for the worst, he never learns. He only becomes even more worthless as time progresses, those Mayfairs have truly bewitched him beyond repair!”
Lucy stepped onto the foyer floor, her voice rising in deep concern.
“Then what about the things he said about Lloyd… about Noelle… Gerald, look at me! What is happening in this house?”
“Nothing is happening,” Gerald snapped, his voice sharp and final as he turned his back to her.
“Go back to your quarters, Lucy. Pray for your son’s ruined soul. I will not have this family’s name dragged through the mud because of his delusions and degeneracy.”
******
Gerald waited until the sound of Lucy’s crying faded down the western corridor.
Once the house was completely quiet again, he walked down the dimly lit hallway toward his private study.
He didn’t knock.
Sitting in the large leather chair behind the desk, turning a small silver pocket knife over in his fingers, was Lloyd.
Gerald had lied to Harry.
Lloyd hadn’t been away on church business at all.
He had been sitting right here, hidden away in the deep shadows of the estate, listening to every single scream, every threat, and every tear shed in the foyer.
“He took the child,” Gerald said flatly, closing the door behind him and locking it.
Lloyd didn’t look surprised.
He stopped turning the knife, a slow, deeply unsettling smile spreading across his face.
“I heard. Harry always did have a loud mouth. He hasn’t changed at all since his exile.”
“He threatened to burn this place to the ground, Lloyd. And he brought Andrew Mayfair with him,” Gerald said, his voice dropping into a tense whisper.
He walked over to the window, looking out at the pouring rain.
“The Mayfairs are looking for a reason to destroy us. And if Harry finds out anything concrete, if he gets proof of your… arrangements… Andrew will use it to strip my title at the high council.”
“Let him try,” Lloyd murmured, his eyes flashing with a cold, regular malice.
He stood up, stretching his arms casually.
“Harry is weak. He thinks hiding behind a Mayfair uniform makes him safe. He thinks taking Lolleta away fixes everything between him and the Mayfairs and that he has their power backing him up.”
Lloyd walked over to the bookshelf, his fingers tracing the spine of a heavy Bible.
“But he forgot that Noelle is still here,” Lloyd whispered, his tone completely unbothered.
“He can scream all the threats he wants. But as long as I have his sister under this roof, Harry will eventually come crawling back on his knees. And when he does, I’ll make sure he never leaves again without facing the consequences of betraying us, the family and the church.”
Gerald didn’t defend his daughter.
He simply nodded his head, his priority entirely locked on his own status.
“Yes father.”
******
Deep in the eastern wing of the estate, behind a heavy, locked door, sat Noelle.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her small frame completely swallowed by the darkness of the room.
She hadn’t been allowed to leave her quarters all afternoon, but the walls of the old stone mansion couldn’t completely block out Harry’s furious, desperate roars from the foyer.
She had heard it all.
And she hadn’t heard her brother’s voice yell that loud with fury in years.
A single tear rolled down Noelle’s pale cheek, but it wasn’t a tear of sadness.
For the first time in three years, a tiny, genuine feeling of relief bloomed inside her chest.
For once she was not alone, someone out there still prayed for her safety, Harry still cared for her.
Noelle clutched her knees tightly against her chest, listening to the distant sound of the rain beating against her window.
‘And now Lolleta is finally out of the house,’ she thought, her breathing finally slowing down.
‘She’s safe.
Harry took her.’
Noelle knew exactly what kind of monster Lloyd was.
She knew the living hell she had been trapped in, and she had spent every single night praying that the same dark fate wouldn’t fall upon her tiny, innocent niece.
Now, knowing that Lolleta was far away from Lloyd’s predatory gaze, a heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders.
She didn’t care about the dark threats Harry had made.
She didn’t care if he actually came back and burned the white stone mansion to the ground.
In fact, as she looked around at the cold, pristine walls of her prison, she desperately hoped he would.
“Come back for me, Harry,” Noelle whispered into the dark room, her voice cracking.
“Please come back.”