Gilded scars

ote lay on the table, its elegant script beckoning me: "Emma, I have something important to share with you. Please meet me t

of the Vanderbilt estate. The wrought-iron gates loomed tall, guarding secr

rt?" he

tching the no

s expecting you.

y lined with ancient oaks. The mansion ahead was a testament to ti

vatory, where Richard Vanderbilt stood amidst a collection of rare orchids. Tall and imposing, with

d, extending a hand. "

, noting the str

ed, gesturing for me to sit. "She believ

ure of where this con

tea into delicate china cups. "She's spirited but lac

, its warmth ste

e?" I

azing out at

ed challenges that many can't fathom. Clara needs someone who c

his words se

confidante, her anchor. In return, you'll have access t

was unexpected

cluded, Richard handed

find a key. It opens a room in thi

e weight of the encounter settles over me. Questions lingered in my mind, most of them unanswered. Who exactly was Richard Vanderbil

ore a flowing white dress that shimmered under the sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He

nd of excitement and relief. "I was won

s from my conversation with her fath

er her shoulder as she approached. "Thi

's life was filled with luxury and laughter, while mine had been forged in s

He didn't scare you, did he? My fath

my head. "Not scared

o you. He likes you, Emma. Otherwise, you wouldn't have made it past the

d at the screen. Her carefree demeanor faltered for the brie

than her expression. "But don't forget-you belong

her white dress flowing like a ghost through the dimly lit corridor. I w

ers tracing its intricate design. Something about it

edge, a tension I couldn't quite place. As the front doors closed behind her, the house fell silent, and for

s key opened? And why did Clara's parting wo