Chapter 2 - the broken wall
Behind them, Marisol’s face drained of all color. The linen napkins in her arms slipped, fluttering softly to the cold marble floor. She looked as though she had seen a ghost, her chest heaving as panic seized her.
Theodore didn't notice the falling linens. His world had narrowed down to the small girl in front of him. Crouching low until his knees touched the marble, bringing his towering frame down to Coraline’s eye level, he held the gleaming gold ring right in front of her face.
"Where did you get this?" Theodore asked, his voice strained, a mixture of shock and quiet urgency that Marisol had never heard from the boss before.
Coraline didn't flinch. She extended a small, delicate arm and pointed toward the far end of the grand corridor, right toward the entrance of the old west coat closet—a dusty, rarely used room dating back to the original construction of the estate.
"The broken wall," Coraline said simply, her sweet voice ringing clear in the silent hall.
Theodore stood up in one fluid, powerful motion. The terrifying composure returned to his eyes, but underneath it burned a fierce, relentless focus. He gave a single nod to the toddler and began walking toward the west wing closet, his polished leather shoes clicking sharply against the floor.
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"Coraline, wait—" Marisol gasped under her breath, scrambling to gather the fallen linens before darting after her daughter. Her hands shook violently. She knew the golden rule of the Marquetti mansion: never pry into closed doors. Yet here was her two-year-old leading the dark lord of the city into the forgotten corners of his own fortress.
Trailing nervously behind Theodore, Marisol kept her head low, praying that whatever her daughter had stumbled upon wouldn't destroy the fragile safety they had built here.
