Chapter 8 - The Impostor in the Dark
Clara slammed the diary shut and whirled around, stepping in front of the sofa to shield Toby.
A tall figure framed by the doorway moved slowly toward her through the dark.
He wore a dark blue suit identical to the one Mr. Morrison had been wearing earlier.
"Julianne always was a dramatic writer," a smooth voice echoed through the dim room.
The man stepped into a beam of moonlight pouring through the tall window.
Clara’s jaw dropped in sheer disbelief as she stared at the man's face.
He had the exact same jawline, hair, and posture as Mr. Morrison—but his eyes were a cold, pale grey.
"Who are you?" Clara whispered, backing away until her spine hit the mahogany desk.
"I am the twin brother history forgot," the man said with a cruel smile.
"Julian never told you about his brother Arthur, did he?"
Arthur reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a silver syringe filled with clear fluid.
"My brother thinks he runs this family, but I control every single piece of this board," Arthur said calmly.
"The nannies, the poisoned milk, the police outside—all part of a very carefully designed script."
He took three fast steps toward Clara, raising the syringe.
Suddenly, a heavy bronze statue crashed against the side of Arthur’s head with a sickening crunch.
Arthur collapsed onto the floor with a loud groan, dropping the syringe.
Mr. Morrison stood over his twin brother's groaning body, holding the bloody bronze statue in his shaking hand.
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His white shirt was torn and splattered with crimson blood.
"We have to get out of here right now," Mr. Morrison said, his voice ragged and desperate.
