Cracks in the Mask
The day began heavy with fog, wrapping the mansion in a gray stillness. Clara walked through the hallways with a tray of tea for Mandaline, ignoring the whispers that still followed her.
When she entered the room, Mandaline was reading a letter — her brows drawn tight.
"Something wrong?" Clara asked.
Mandaline looked up, folding the paper slowly. "It's from one of our old attorneys. About the accounts Marcus handled before his disappearance."
Clara hesitated. "What about them?"
"They don't match up," Mandaline said softly. "Money missing. Transactions falsified. But not under Marcus's name."
Clara frowned. "Then whose?"
Mandaline's gaze lingered on her. "Yours."
Clara stiffened. "Mine? That's impossible."
"I know," Mandaline said firmly. "That's why I'm not showing this to Ethan yet. Someone's planting evidence, Clara."
Clara felt a mix of fear and relief. "You believe me?"
Mandaline smiled gently. "I trust what my heart tells me. And it says you're innocent."
The lump in Clara's throat tightened. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Mandaline said, her eyes glinting with quiet determination. "Whoever's doing this isn't just after you — they want to destroy this family from within."
Outside the door, someone listened quietly. Victoria.
---
Later that day, Victoria found herself watching Clara from across the hall. Clara was helping Eleanor with the flower arrangements again, hands steady and movements graceful despite the tension in her face.
Something about that calm — that quiet endurance — unsettled Victoria.
"Still pretending everything's fine?" Victoria said finally, crossing her arms.
Clara looked up, not rising to the bait. "If I fall apart, it won't fix anything."
"Maybe not," Victoria replied, tilting her head. "But at least it would make you human."
Clara gave a faint smile. "I never said I wasn't."
Victoria frowned, uncertain why those words stuck with her.
Before she could say more, Ethan entered the hallway, followed closely by Isabella. His tone was low, firm. "Victoria, I need the financial reports from last quarter. They were filed under your name."
"I already sent them," Victoria said, glancing uneasily at Isabella.
Ethan nodded curtly, then turned to Clara. "I'll be in my study if you need anything."
Clara just nodded, her expression unreadable.
When he was gone, Isabella whispered just loud enough for Victoria to hear, "Poor Clara. Still waiting for scraps of affection."
Clara ignored her, walking away without a word.
For the first time, Victoria didn't find herself smiling. Something about Isabella's tone — the cruel satisfaction in it — felt wrong.