Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 21: Chapter 21
You are reading Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle, Chapter 21: Chapter 21. Read more chapters of Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle.
After packing upstairs, Lorraine grabbed a white puffer jacket from her closet and wrapped a red scarf around her neck. She bundled up and tucked an old suitcase under one arm. Then, scooping up the small cage from her windowsill, she hurried downstairs.
With so little to take, packing had no time at all. The empty living room made for an easy escape—no one would notice her leaving.
At the front door, she set her luggage on the entryway table. She was just bending to put on her shoes when a figure rushed from the porch and seized her arm.
It was Elsie—Lorraine's half-sister.
Lorraine's chest tightened as she faced Elsie's plastic-perfect face. "Elsie, what do you want? Let me go!"
"Not a chance." Elsie's laugh was hollow, her surgically refined nose wrinkling without warmth. "Mom said you were not leaving tonight. Every exit's blocked. Try to run away if you want, but we both know how that'll end."
Lorraine went still, her gaze drawn to the tangled strings of outdoor fairy lights thrashing violently in the winter wind. The erratic flashes of white and blue looked disturbingly like emergency strobes.
"Stephen is not coming, is he?" Elsie twirled a curl around her finger, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. "I wonder what harsh punishment Dad has planned for you tonight."
Lorraine stumbled backward until the cold wall stopped her retreat. Her lips lost all color as terror took hold.
"Look at you," Elsie sneered, waving her crimson nails in front of Lorraine's face. "Pale as that stupid rabbit of yours." Her lips curled into a vicious smile. "I can't wait to see you both dead."
Lorraine stayed quiet, ignoring Elsie's smugness. But inside, she was calculating—how to slip away unnoticed with so many eyes watching tonight?
Suddenly, Elsie's shriek cut through the tension.
Lorraine turned to see her rabbit at the cage's edge, its teeth clamped firmly on Elsie's finger.
Elsie's face screwed up in agony, her screams shredding the air.
Hearing the noise, Raquel came barreling from the kitchen and delivered a sharp kick to Lorraine's injured knee.
Lorraine's leg buckled instantly. Collapsing to the floor, she felt cold sweat trickle down her temples as white-hot pain shot through her body.
"Elsie, are you hurt?" Raquel gathered her daughter in a frantic embrace. "Someone get over here! We need a doctor! Now!"
The elderly housekeeper emerged from the kitchen, casting a pitying look at Lorraine before helping Elsie away.
Raquel brought her heel down hard on Lorraine's hand, twisting it viciously against the floor. "Damn witch," she hissed. "You'll pay for this tonight."
The dining table gleamed under thirty-six meticulously arranged dishes, each placed according to temperature and type in perfect circles. A prized forty-year-old wine had been carefully warmed and set at the center.
The Shaws' dining room sat in heavy silence.
Zackery fidgeted endlessly—adjusting his black suit, smoothing his hair, checking for nonexistent wrinkles. His eyes kept darting to the door, his nervous energy filling the still air.
The servants replaced dishes the moment they cooled and kept the wine constantly warmed.
As the clock ticked closer to nine, each swing made Lorraine's stomach twist tighter—like something awful was coming.
"Call Stephen," Zackery demanded. "We need to know when he'll be here."
Beneath the table, Lorraine's nails dug into her palm. She kept her gaze down, her lashes veiling the fear in her eyes.
Fate seemed to be mocking her with cruel, icy laughter.
With so little to take, packing had no time at all. The empty living room made for an easy escape—no one would notice her leaving.
At the front door, she set her luggage on the entryway table. She was just bending to put on her shoes when a figure rushed from the porch and seized her arm.
It was Elsie—Lorraine's half-sister.
Lorraine's chest tightened as she faced Elsie's plastic-perfect face. "Elsie, what do you want? Let me go!"
"Not a chance." Elsie's laugh was hollow, her surgically refined nose wrinkling without warmth. "Mom said you were not leaving tonight. Every exit's blocked. Try to run away if you want, but we both know how that'll end."
Lorraine went still, her gaze drawn to the tangled strings of outdoor fairy lights thrashing violently in the winter wind. The erratic flashes of white and blue looked disturbingly like emergency strobes.
"Stephen is not coming, is he?" Elsie twirled a curl around her finger, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. "I wonder what harsh punishment Dad has planned for you tonight."
Lorraine stumbled backward until the cold wall stopped her retreat. Her lips lost all color as terror took hold.
"Look at you," Elsie sneered, waving her crimson nails in front of Lorraine's face. "Pale as that stupid rabbit of yours." Her lips curled into a vicious smile. "I can't wait to see you both dead."
Lorraine stayed quiet, ignoring Elsie's smugness. But inside, she was calculating—how to slip away unnoticed with so many eyes watching tonight?
Suddenly, Elsie's shriek cut through the tension.
Lorraine turned to see her rabbit at the cage's edge, its teeth clamped firmly on Elsie's finger.
Elsie's face screwed up in agony, her screams shredding the air.
Hearing the noise, Raquel came barreling from the kitchen and delivered a sharp kick to Lorraine's injured knee.
Lorraine's leg buckled instantly. Collapsing to the floor, she felt cold sweat trickle down her temples as white-hot pain shot through her body.
"Elsie, are you hurt?" Raquel gathered her daughter in a frantic embrace. "Someone get over here! We need a doctor! Now!"
The elderly housekeeper emerged from the kitchen, casting a pitying look at Lorraine before helping Elsie away.
Raquel brought her heel down hard on Lorraine's hand, twisting it viciously against the floor. "Damn witch," she hissed. "You'll pay for this tonight."
The dining table gleamed under thirty-six meticulously arranged dishes, each placed according to temperature and type in perfect circles. A prized forty-year-old wine had been carefully warmed and set at the center.
The Shaws' dining room sat in heavy silence.
Zackery fidgeted endlessly—adjusting his black suit, smoothing his hair, checking for nonexistent wrinkles. His eyes kept darting to the door, his nervous energy filling the still air.
The servants replaced dishes the moment they cooled and kept the wine constantly warmed.
As the clock ticked closer to nine, each swing made Lorraine's stomach twist tighter—like something awful was coming.
"Call Stephen," Zackery demanded. "We need to know when he'll be here."
Beneath the table, Lorraine's nails dug into her palm. She kept her gaze down, her lashes veiling the fear in her eyes.
Fate seemed to be mocking her with cruel, icy laughter.
End of Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle Chapter 21. Continue reading Chapter 22 or return to Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle book page.