Chapter 2 - The Wrath of the Waterfront
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The ballroom fell into a terrifying, suffocating stillness. The crystal chandeliers overhead hummed softly, casting brilliant light across Daniel Carver’s charcoal jacket, which now hung over Hannah Brooks’s trembling shoulders.
Claire Whitlock stood frozen, her manicured fingers still hooked in the air where she had held the severed strand of Hannah’s hair. The shock on her face quickly curdled into a mask of pure, aristocratic outrage.
“Daniel,” Claire hissed, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper to keep the forty watching guests from catching her panic. “Look at what you’re doing. You are humiliating me. Over help? She didn't bow when I entered the parlor. She didn't answer when I asked her to clear the glass. She needs to learn her place.”