Before She Does
The night pressed heavy against the windows of the mansion, shadows pooling across the marble floors like spilled ink. Eleanor's trembling hand hovered over the phone as she whispered, "Please let them come before she does."
She barely ended the call when the back door creaked open. Her pulse thundered. "Who's there?" she called softly, clutching the edge of the counter.
A familiar scent of perfume drifted in — sharp, expensive, and poisonous. Isabella stepped into the light, her lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes.
"Eleanor," she said sweetly, "you really should lock your doors. Dangerous things happen at night."
Eleanor's heart pounded. "What are you doing here, Isabella?"
"I could ask you the same," Isabella replied, walking closer. "Spying? Playing detective? You've become rather nosy lately."
Eleanor swallowed. "You can't hurt her. Clara has done nothing to you."
Isabella laughed — a soft, chilling sound. "Nothing? She stole what's mine. My place, my name, my Ethan."
"She never took him!" Eleanor's voice cracked. "He chose her!"
That single sentence made Isabella's expression darken. She stepped closer, her eyes burning. "He was confused. But confusion can be corrected."
Before Eleanor could run, a pair of men in black appeared behind her. Isabella sighed. "Take her somewhere quiet. I'll decide what to do with her later."
Eleanor struggled, but her voice was swallowed by the night. The last thing she saw was Isabella's smirk — the smile of someone who had no mercy left to give.
---
Meanwhile, Clara sat alone in her room, the clock ticking like a heartbeat. Ethan hadn't come to bed yet. Their conversations lately were short — filled with silence that said more than words.
When the door finally opened, Ethan stepped in, still in his suit, exhaustion in his eyes. "You're still awake."
"I couldn't sleep," Clara admitted, staring at the window. "It feels… quiet tonight."
He loosened his tie, hesitating. "Too quiet."
Their gazes met — that unspoken space between them heavy with questions neither dared to ask. Clara looked away first. "Do you think Eleanor is okay? She seemed worried today."
Ethan frowned. "She called Damien earlier. Said she had something urgent. Then the line cut off."
Clara's breath caught. "She called Damien?"
"Yes. He's already tracing the signal."
Something cold twisted in her chest. The fear she'd buried beneath her calm surfaced — not just for Eleanor, but for the fragile thread that bound her and Ethan together.
"Ethan…" she began softly. "If something happens —"
"Nothing will happen," he interrupted, too quickly. "I won't let it."
But even as he said it, his eyes flickered with doubt.