SHE THREW HER 4-YEAR-OLD STEPDAUGHTER INTO A FOUNTAIN IN FRONT OF 200 GUESTS! The little girl’s heartbreaking words to her father left everyone speechless. But when a guest revealed what her phone had recorded, the stepmother’s darkest secret began to unravel… / Chapter 26 / 40

Chapter 26 - Blood Beneath the Floorboards

The ascent to the clocktower was a nightmare of shadows and echoing wind.

The clocktower sat seventy feet above the manor's east wing, an ancient architectural relic built by Daniel’s great-grandfather. Its interior was dominated by massive, groaning iron gears, exposed structural beams, and the ceaseless, rhythmic ticking of the mechanical clock: *CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.*

The temperature dropped drastically as they climbed the narrow wooden spiral steps. Cold rain blew in through the open louvers of the belfry. The air smelled of ozone, rust, and something sweet and sickening—ether.

"She used the medical vents," Hannah whispered, shining her light onto an exposed ventilation duct running along the wooden staircase. "She pumped an anesthetic gas into the tower safe room."

Daniel’s heart pounded against his fractured ribs like a trapped bird. "Clara! Can you hear me?!"

No response. Only the relentless mechanical groaning of the clockwork.

They reached the top landing. A heavy steel door stood before them, its digital lock blinking dead—the power surge from the C4 blast had fried the electronics. But the manual override wheel was secured from the inside with an iron chain.

Daniel pressed his face against the reinforced viewing glass of the door.

Inside the small, concrete-lined chamber, Clara was lying motionless on the cold floor, her favorite worn teddy bear clutched tightly against her chest. Her skin looked pale, almost translucent under the flickering emergency strip light.

"Clara! Baby, wake up!" Daniel slammed his fists against the steel door. "Wake up!"

Clara’s eyelids fluttered weakly, but she didn't move. Her breathing was dangerously shallow.

"The chain is looped around the central cog of the clock mechanism!" Hannah pointed through the glass. "If the main gear turns, it tightens the chain... and it will crush her if she moves toward the door!"

Suddenly, a cold voice echoed from the shadows behind the towering brass pendulum:

"A tragic dilemma, isn't it?"

Evelyn stepped out from behind the massive swinging pendulum. She held an antique double-barreled hunting shotgun—one of the vintage display pieces from Daniel's study downstairs. Both hammers were cocked back. The barrels were pointed straight at Daniel’s chest.

"You have two choices, Daniel," Evelyn whispered, her eyes dancing with manic glee. "In three minutes, the clock strikes midnight. When the twelve-ton chime hammer drops, the central gear rotates a full turn. That heavy iron chain you see? It will snap the door mechanism and seal that safe room forever, suffocating your daughter in her sleep."

"What do you want, Evelyn?!" Daniel pleaded, spreading his hands wide, stepping directly between the shotgun barrels and Hannah. "Money? The Vale empire? Take it all! I’ll sign every asset over to you! Just unlock the door!"

"Money?" Evelyn snarled, her face twisting into a mask of pure, demonic fury. "Do you think money gives me back five years in a padded cell?! Do you think money erases the electroshock therapy Eleanor paid them to give me?! No, Daniel. I don't want your money. I want you to feel what it's like to watch your life die behind glass while you scream with no voice!"