"I need time," I said, standing abruptly. "I need to think."
"Tiffany," Lucas called after me, but I didn’t turn around.
The cold night air slapped my face as I stepped outside. My thoughts raced, tangled in a web of fear and uncertainty. If what Lucas said was true, then Nathaniel wasn’t just my enemy—he was my family’s destroyer.
And I had no idea what to do next.
“You think you know him, don’t you?”
The question came from a child’s voice, high-pitched but steady. I turned toward the sound, startled to find little Clara, no older than seven, staring up at me with those piercing blue eyes.
She held a sketchbook in her tiny hands, smudges of charcoal marking her fingers.
“Know who?” I asked, crouching to meet her eye level.
Clara shrugged, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Mr. Nathaniel. He’s nice, but sometimes... he’s not.”
My breath caught. The innocence of her words, laced with an unsettling weight, made my chest tighten. Nathaniel had brought me to this orphanage under the pretense of charity, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“What do you mean, Clara?” I pressed gently.
She shook her head, her golden curls bouncing. “You’ll see.”
Before I could respond, a shadow fell over us.