Chapter 8 - The Ghost of the PastInside the quiet isolation ward, the chemical fog had finally cleared from Claire’s eyes. For the first time in two years, her gaze was sharp, her voice steady, carrying the distinct steel of a woman who had finally remembered who she was before she became a prisoner.
"His first fiancee wasn't named Sarah," Claire said, her fingers wrapped tightly around a warm mug of broth Daniel had brought her. "Her name was Elena Cross. The public records say she died of an accidental fall from the balcony of their estate in Charlottesville four years ago. The family papers said she had a long history of depressive psychosis."
She looked up at Daniel, her green eyes piercingly clear.
"But she didn't jump, Daniel. A week before I was hospitalized the first time, I found an old, encrypted flash drive hidden inside the lining of a collection of antique porcelain dolls in the estate's master study. Elena had recorded everything. She had kept a digital diary of every time Julian forced her to take the blue pills. She recorded the bruises. She even recorded an audio file of him telling her that if she ever tried to leave, he would use his father’s judges to lock her away in an asylum until she forgot her own name."
"Is the drive still there?" Daniel asked, leaning forward.
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"Yes," Claire said, her jaw tightening. "In the servant's quarters, inside the third doll on the left shelf. Julian never threw them away because he viewed them as trophies. He thinks he won. He thinks Elena’s story is over."
"It's not over," Daniel said, standing up. "It’s just waiting for the next witness."
