Chapter 003: Homeland II
1345 Words
(Clara's POV)
I remembered the last thing I saw before blacking out: Richard lunging toward me, the bullet, his body shielding mine, and then the freezing sea swallowing us both.
I clenched the blanket tightly. If he hadn’t jumped after me, I’d be dead right now — a princess who couldn’t even celebrate her eighteenth birthday, whose parents were missing, who might never see her family again. The thought made my chest tighten painfully. I lowered my head and rubbed my eyes.
“No…”
I refused to think like that. Dad promised, and he never broke his promises. If he said he’d come back with Mom, then they would. They had to. I repeated those words to myself until my emotions settled a little, and only then did I finally take the time to look around the room properly.
It was beautiful. Almost ridiculously so. The walls were painted a soft shade of pink with golden butterflies tucked into the corners, and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, scattering little sparkles across the room whenever sunlight caught it. The curtains, the cushions, the carpets, even the flower vase on the table — everything screamed Clara. My lips twitched. This was the kind of room I would’ve begged my parents to build me when I was ten.
I got off the bed and wandered around, studying the framed photographs on the shelves. Most of them showed places I’d never seen before: a snow-covered mountain, a lake ringed by forest, an old castle sitting on a hill. This country was completely unfamiliar to me. Dad had mentioned his homeland plenty of times growing up, but he’d rarely gone into detail, and I realized just then how little I actually knew about this side of my family.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
A maid stepped in with a polite bow. “Young miss, dinner will be served shortly.”
I blinked. “Already?”
She smiled. “You’ve been asleep for quite a while.”
My cheeks warmed. Had I really slept that long? “Thank you,” I said, and she bowed again before leaving quietly. The moment the door clicked shut, my stomach growled, loud and unashamed.
I looked down at it. “Traitor.”
It only growled louder. I sighed dramatically. Apparently my stomach didn’t care one bit about my emotional crisis; it just wanted food.
I climbed back onto the bed and waited. A few minutes later, two maids wheeled in a food trolley, and my eyes went wide.
“Is all of that for me?”
They exchanged an amused glance. “Chairman Shaw personally instructed the kitchen to prepare these dishes.”
I stared at the spread. There had to be more than ten dishes: steak, soup, salad, pasta, roasted chicken, desserts, fresh fruit, and a few things I couldn’t even name. I thought of the grumpy old man from earlier, the one who kept harrumphing and complaining about Dad, and my lips curved slightly. Maybe he wasn’t quite as scary as he liked to pretend.
The maids arranged everything and left, and the second the door shut behind them, I dug in. For the next twenty minutes, I forgot about politics, about kidnappers, about missing parents — I even forgot about Richard. There was just me and food. Wonderful, wonderful food.
When I finally finished, I leaned back, satisfied, and let out an inelegant burp that would’ve sent my etiquette teacher into a dead faint. Sleep crept up on me almost immediately after; my body clearly hadn’t finished recovering. I glanced at the giant bed. It glanced back. We both already knew who was going to win that standoff.
Five minutes later, I was buried under the blankets, lavender wrapped around me, my eyelids growing heavier by the second until darkness pulled me under again.
*****************
I couldn’t have slept more than an hour before I woke again, which made sense, honestly — I’d already been unconscious for three days straight, so my body didn’t seem to want any more of it.
The sky outside had gone nearly dark. I checked the grandfather clock on the wall: six fifteen. And then I remembered Richard. Grandma had said he was recovering somewhere in the manor, and I’d wanted to check on him. Now that I’d eaten and rested, there was no excuse to keep putting it off.
I stood and stretched, my muscles stiff from days spent in bed, then grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom. The warm bath helped. Afterward, I stood in front of the mirror and studied my reflection — my cheeks had regained some color, my long chestnut hair falling loose around my shoulders, the dark circles under my eyes fading after all that sleep. At least I no longer looked like someone who’d just escaped death.
I pulled on a pink sundress, slipped into matching slippers, and once I looked presentable enough, left the room.
The manor was quieter than I’d expected. Soft light spilled through the long hallways, paintings lining the walls, expensive vases set neatly along the corridors. I walked slowly, taking it all in. A few maids passed and greeted me respectfully; I nodded back, only half paying attention.
Eventually I stopped one of them. “Excuse me. Have you seen my grandmother?”
She bowed slightly. “The old madam is hosting guests at the tea house, young miss.”
“The greenhouse?”
“Yes.” She pointed toward a glass structure visible through one of the windows. “If you’d like, I can take you there.”
“Please.”
She led the way, and after a ten-minute walk we reached a beautiful greenhouse surrounded by flowers. The scent of rose and fresh soil hit me as soon as I got close, and I breathed it in.
The maid stopped at the entrance. “The old madam is inside.”
“Thank you.”
I dismissed her and stepped in, and immediately regretted it.
Old women, everywhere. Elegant ones in expensive clothes, sipping tea and chatting happily, admiring flowers, laughing loudly, discussing things that only old women seem to find fascinating. My mouth twitched. I genuinely considered turning around and bolting. Fate, unfortunately, had other plans.
“My dear Clara!”
Grandma’s voice rang out, and half the room turned to look at me. I froze. She waved me over enthusiastically. “Come here.”
I pasted on a smile — there was no escaping now — and dragged myself over. “Hello, Grandma.” Then, to the room: “Hello, everyone.”
The ladies lit up all at once. “Oh my goodness.” “She’s adorable.” “She looks just like her father.” “What a beautiful child.” The compliments came from every direction, and one woman even reached out and pinched my cheek. I nearly cried. Why were old women so terrifying?
I held my smile through sheer willpower and leaned in close to Grandma. “Grandma.”
“Hmm?”
“I want to see Richard.”
Her expression softened. “I figured you would.” She pulled out her phone, made a quick call, and hung up with a smile. “Someone will come get you shortly.”
I let out a breath of relief. At least I wouldn’t be stuck here much longer.
About fifteen minutes later, an elderly butler approached and bowed. “Young miss, please follow me.”
I was on my feet before he’d even finished the sentence. Grandma laughed softly. “Go on, then.”
I followed him out of the greenhouse, and after a twenty-minute walk through the manor’s winding sections, we finally stopped outside a room. He turned to me. “Mr. Richard is recovering inside.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Once he’d gone, I took a breath, reached for the handle, and pushed the door open slowly.
The first thing that greeted me was the steady beep of a heart monitor. I almost gasped.
- Writer
