She Smashed the Portrait at Her Own Engagement Ball
CHAPTER 1 - THE CRY BEHIND THE WALL
"What on earth are you doing?"
The question cut through the ballroom chatter just after I swung the fire ax for the second time.
A minute earlier, I had been smiling for photographs under the crystal chandeliers, my champagne-gold sequined gown catching the warm light. My hair was pinned into a careful updo. My silver earrings barely moved when I turned my head.
Then I heard it.
A child's cry.
Thin. Muffled. Desperate.
At first I thought I had imagined it. The musicians were playing something low and elegant. Guests were laughing softly in the hall outside the banquet room. But then I heard it again, behind the huge oil portrait hanging in the west corridor.
So I grabbed the emergency ax from its glass case and brought it down hard.
The canvas split with a sound that made half the guests gasp.
I dropped the ax and tore at the hole with both hands. Dust fell into my face. Behind the ruined painting was a narrow black space between the walls.
"I heard someone crying behind this wall!" I shouted.
Then I saw them.
A pair of pale green eyes blinking in the dark.
A small hand reached toward me, trembling. The little girl couldn't have been older than seven. Her light beige dress was smeared with dust. There was a scrape across the back of her hand.
"Please... help me."
My heart lurched.
"Hold on. I'm getting you out right now."
I reached for her just as people started screaming behind me. A wineglass shattered on the black-and-white marble floor, red wine spreading toward the narrow crimson runner.
Then Arthur Valliere came charging down the corridor.
At sixty-two, my fiance's grandfather still carried himself like a king. His silver hair was neat. His black tailcoat looked perfect. Only his face gave him away.
He was furious.
"No! Step away from that wall!"
He grabbed my arm hard enough to hurt.
I tore free and faced him. My earrings swung wildly against my neck.
"There is a child trapped in there!"
I stepped closer, my voice shaking now with anger.
"Why is she so terrified of you?"
The little girl looked past me toward Arthur. Her dusty face crumpled.
"Elena," she whispered, "don't let him take me again."
I had never seen her before in my life.
