#Marceline#
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and floor polish. Bright overhead lights reflected off the polished linoleum as Marceline stood outside the private room they had given Adrian. She had arrived less than twenty minutes earlier after finally forcing one of the estate drivers to bring her. Blood still stained the front of her dress in dark, stiffened patches. Her hands had been scrubbed raw in a restroom sink, but faint traces remained under her nails.
Aunt Vivian blocked the doorway. Victoria stood just behind her, arms folded, expression cool and satisfied.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Vivian said. “I made myself clear at the house. You are not welcome in this hospital.”
Marceline’s gaze moved past both women to the narrow window in the door. Through it she could see
