Chapter 92 - A Sister's Silence, A Stepmother's Scheme

The morning sun filtered through the heavy brocade curtains of the Beaumont estate's guest room, casting a somber glow across Clara's pale face. She sat propped against several pillows, her usual perfect posture now slumped and defeated. I hardly recognized this broken version of my typically vibrant, scheming sister.

"Clara," I said gently, taking a seat beside her bed. "How are you feeling today?"

Her eyes, rimmed red from crying, briefly met mine before darting away. "I'm fine," she whispered, her voice lacking its usual sharp edge.

Alaric stood by the window, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the floor. His face remained impassive, but I knew his mind was working furiously, connecting pieces of this horrific puzzle.

"We need to ask you some questions about Lord Gideon," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Anything you can tell us might help prevent other women from suffering."