Chapter 1 - The Secret in the Scarf
The boy’s words hung in the cold morning air.
Arthur’s face turned completely pale.
He took a slow step toward the muddy child.
"What did you just say?" Arthur demanded.
The boy realized his mistake immediately.
He scrambled backward, his bare feet slipping on the wet gravel.
"Wait!" Arthur shouted, lunging forward.
But the boy was too fast.
He bolted into the thick hedges surrounding the mansion, leaving behind only the red scarf that had been tied to his wrist.
It snagged on a thorny branch, fluttering like a warning flag.
Clara stood shaking in the metal tub.
Her arms ached from gripping her crutches so tightly.
"Daddy?" she whispered.
Arthur didn’t look at her.
He walked over to the hedge and snatched the red fabric from the thorns.
His hands were trembling.
"Inside," he ordered, his voice dangerously low.
"Now."
Clara struggled to lift her wet feet from the tub.
She expected him to help her, to lift her the way he always did when she was tired.
But he just turned his back and marched toward the massive glass doors of the house.
Clara dragged herself up the steps, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Something was terribly wrong.
When she finally made it to the living room, her father was standing by the fireplace.
He was staring down at the torn red scarf.
"Who was that boy?" asked Evelyn, Clara’s stepmother, walking down the sweeping staircase.
She wore a pristine white silk robe and a perfectly rehearsed smile.
"Just a beggar," Arthur lied, crushing the scarf into his pocket.
But Clara had seen it.
Just before her father hid the fabric, she saw a piece of folded yellow paper slip out from the hem of the scarf.
Arthur thought he had hidden it smoothly, but Clara’s sharp eyes caught his panic.
Later that night, Clara crept down the dark hallway to her father's study.
The door was slightly cracked open.
She peered through the gap.
Her father was sitting at his mahogany desk, crying silently.
The yellow paper from the scarf was smoothed out in front of him.
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Clara pushed the door open just enough to see the large, frantic handwriting on the page.
It read, "They aren't trying to cure her, Arthur, they are poisoning her."
