Chapter 2

St. Michael’s Basilica /Eldoria

Rain poured down in heavy sheets, turning the ground into a muddy quagmire. Under the eaves
of the old stone church, Father Ambrose and his son, Victor, stood watching as a group of men
hauled crates of food supplies from a carriage into the chapel. Behind the altar lay a hidden
staircase, leading to a basement where the food would be stored.

"God bless you," Father Ambrose called to each man as they passed, his voice full of warmth
and gratitude despite the cold, wet weather.

Once the supplies were safely stored, Father Ambrose and Victor retreated into the warmth of
the church. The two of them knelt in the dimly lit chapel and recited the last line of the Hail Mary
before retreating to the priest's private chambers.

Father Ambrose watched Victor closely as they entered the study. The young man had been
quiet, his books open in front of him, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. Ambrose's heart
ached at the sight. He had taken Victor in as his son when the boy’s mother had died, and he
felt a deep, paternal love for him.

*Oh Lord, give me the strength to help him,* Ambrose prayed silently.

"Victor," he began gently, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

Victor looked up, his eyes unfocused at first, then sharpening as he met Ambrose's gaze. "Yes,
Father?"

"Do you want to know something?" Ambrose asked, a hint of intrigue in his tone.

Victor nodded, clearly eager for a distraction.

Father Ambrose settled into his chair, drawing in a deep breath. "Let me tell you about our city,
about how it all began."

Victor leaned forward, his interest piqued.

"A long time ago," Ambrose began, "this land was little more than wilderness. A small group of
missionaries settled here, drawn by a vision of a place where people could live in peace and
worship freely. They built the first church with their own hands, but they struggled to sustain
themselves. They prayed to God for help, and in His grace, He provided."

Ambrose's voice grew softer, more reverent, as he recounted the tale. "It was then that the
Thorntons arrived. They were a wealthy family, but even they needed the support of the
government to build a city,that’s when the elders came in .
Ambrose sighed deeply. "Corruption has crept in over the years ,Despite everything,God
continues to provide for His people. Even now, in the midst of danger and darkness, there is
hope."

Ambrose reached out, placing a comforting hand on Victor’s shoulder. "Remember, my son, that
God has a plan for all of us, even when we cannot see it. Trust in His grace, and we will find our
way."

They sat in silence for a moment, the rain still pounding against the windows, but inside the
small study, there was a sense of peace and understanding.
**************** ************** ***************

BACK AT THE THRONTONS MANSION.

Maeve wandered through the dimly lit hallways of the Thornton estate, her footsteps echoing
softly against the marble floors. As she turned a corner, she nearly collided with Emile, who
seemed to be waiting for her.

"Ah, the newcomer," Emile remarked, a smile playing on her lips. "Allow me to show you
around. It’s a large place, easy to get lost."

Maeve hesitated but sensed a genuine offer of kindness and nodded, following Emile.

They strolled through the opulent corridors, Maeve admiring the intricate tapestries and elegant
chandeliers that adorned the estate. "This place is stunning," she said, her eyes wide with awe.
"I’ve never seen anything quite like it."

Emile laughed softly. "It does have its charms, doesn’t it? Sometimes I forget how grand it all is."

Maeve glanced around, taking in the lavish decor. "Do you enjoy living here?"

"At times," Emile replied, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. "It can be enchanting, but it can also
feel like a gilded cage."

Maeve nodded, sensing the underlying tension. "It must take a fortune to maintain all this."

Emile’s expression shifted, a shadow passing over her features. "Yes, the Thorntons have
amassed considerable wealth. They control much of the land and the resources."

Maeve's curiosity was piqued. "How do they manage it all? Their influence seems boundless."

Emile leaned in, her voice barely more than a whisper. "The Thorntons are a tapestry of deceit
and manipulation. Their power is a living entity, wrapping around your soul until it squeezes the
life out of you."

Maeve felt a chill at Emile's words, her curiosity deepening. "Why tell me this, Emile?" she
asked, her voice low, as if sharing in a secret too dangerous to speak aloud.
Emile's smile was enigmatic, filled with unspoken stories. "Consider it a gesture of kindness—a
warning whispered when the shadows are long and the night deep."

"You speak in riddles," Maeve replied. "I'm just a guest here. Do you think it wise to tell me of
this family's darkness?"

"Perhaps not," Emile conceded, "but you deserve to know what you’re stepping into."

As they navigated the labyrinthine corridors, emile recalled a conversation between her and
Peter earlier.

Emile stood by the window, gazing out at the sprawling gardens beyond. The sunlight cast a soft
glow on her face, but her expression was shadowed with melancholy. "I am a prisoner in this
gilded cage," she said, her voice a heartbreaking melody. "Mother's cruelty knows no bounds.
She is not my mother, Peter, merely a cold, calculating force."

Peter sat across the room, his posture tense and unyielding. "Lady Thornton is powerful," he
said, a note of frustration in his voice. "There’s nothing anyone can do to even touch her."

Emile sighed, her breath fogging the glass. "I won’t let her control me. My father brought me into
this world with another woman, not her. None of it is my fault."

Peter turned to look at her, determination etched into his features. "Don’t let her get into your
head. Even if you have dirt on her, she’ll see you coming."

Emile’s eyes flickered with a sudden spark of defiance. She turned from the window, an idea
forming in her mind. "But what if it wasn’t me?" she mused, a sly smile beginning to play on her
lips.

Peter gazed at her, confusion and intrigue mingling in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Emile stepped closer, her voice lowered conspiratorially. "What if she doesn’t see it coming?"
she said, her tone brimming with possibility.

Peter leaned forward, intrigued. "We’d need a pawn, someone who could dance with the devil,
unaware of the fire."

Emile's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Someone who doesn’t fear Lady
Thornton."

Peter narrowed his eyes, suspicion lacing his words. "You sound like you have someone in
mind."

Emile nodded slowly, confidence radiating from her. "Oh, darling, I always do. There’s a
maiden—Maeve."

Peter leaned back, considering her words. "She doesn’t fear her because she doesn’t know her.
What would motivate her to work with you?"
Emile’s gaze was steady, her smile mysterious. "Motive? I have a feeling..."

*end flashback*-.

They continued their walk, passing ornate fountains and lush flowerbeds. Emile led Maeve
towards the estate’s outskirts, where the landscape grew wilder and less manicured. They
paused at the edge of a vast stretch of farmland, the sheer expanse of it leaving Maeve
breathless.

“This is incredible,” Maeve murmured, gazing out over the fields. “Who farms this land?”

Emile’s eyes gleamed with a mix of bitterness and determination. “Can I show you something
Meave ?” she asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Maeve’s eyes widened with curiosity. Emile's hand, a gentle guide, led Maeve down a winding
stairway, into the very bowels of the earth. The air grew thick with an eerie silence, punctuated
only by the soft rustling of leaves.

Before them lay a vast expanse of crops, a sea of green that stretched towards the horizon.
Maeve's mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of the operation.

The fields ,full of black men, women, and children, toiling under the hot sun. The conditions
were deplorable; the people were emaciated, their faces etched with exhaustion and despair.

"These are the forgotten people," Emilia said quietly. "Our city ,Eldoria has no more than 20
black citizens, officially. But in reality, there are over 300 black people forced to work these
fields, hidden from the world."

Maeve felt her stomach turn. "This is... horrifying. Why doesn't anyone know about this?"

"They've been lied to," Emilia replied.

Maeve's eyes widened in shock.

"There are four black men in the upper class, the only ones visible in Eldoria. They're used to
breed the next generation of slaves," Emilia explained, her voice shaking with anger. "Men are
not allowed to have sex unless they do an exceptional job, which earns them a night of freedom,
called Eve Night. It's a night of mass exploitation, leading to more children born into this horror."

Maeve felt bile rise in her throat as she observed the horrific scene. She saw men in cages,
children malnourished and sick. The inhumane conditions were beyond anything she could have
imagined. "How can this be happening?" she whispered…

Emilia placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know it's hard to process. But welcome to
the family, Maeve."
In horror Meave had started existing the room,followed behind her was Emile..

“ is that it ,you get Scared and run away “

Maeve's frustration simmered beneath the surface, her fists clenched as she turned to leave. "I
didn’t ask for any of this," she snapped, her voice barely containing her anger. "How do you
sleep knowing what happens down there? I’ve had enough of today."

Emile’s voice cut through the tension, steady and sharp. "I know why you're here," she said, her
gaze piercing. "I know about your sister."

Maeve froze, her breath caught in her throat. She turned slowly, her eyes locking onto Emile's
with a fierce intensity. "What did you say?" she demanded, walking swiftly toward her, her fists
still tight.

Emile held her ground, her expression calm yet charged with purpose. "You see, Maeve—or
whatever you call yourself—I was going to lie to you, make you do my bidding. But as I showed
you all this, I realized you have more potential than I thought."

Maeve's eyes narrowed, a mixture of confusion and anger clouding her features. "What do you
mean?" she asked, her voice a low growl.

Emile began to circle her slowly, her eyes never leaving Maeve's face. "Two years ago, a
maiden walked through that door, engaged to a Thornton. She had white hair, a splendid body,
and bright gray eyes, just like yours," Emile recounted, her voice dripping with implication.
"Martha, her name was, isn’t it? She vanished on the night of the gathering—no trace, no
evidence of her death—and was never spoken about again."

Maeve’s anger flared, her eyes blazing with defiance. "What do you know?" she asked, her
voice sharp and biting.

Emile stopped in front of her, her smile enigmatic. "What I do know is that you’re here to find out
what happened to your sister. That’s why you married my brother. I get it; I’m a woman too. I get
what I want, no matter what."

Maeve's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, her rage barely contained. "I love Charles. This
is different. Is this why you're telling me all this? To help me?"

Emile leaned in, her voice smooth and persuasive. "Help? Oh, darling, that’s an
understatement. I need your help."

Maeve stepped back, her fists unclenching as she tried to control her fury. "I'm trying to lay low,
find what I want, and leave. None of this is my business, so stay the hell away from me," she
whispered, her tone commanding and unyielding.
Emile laughed softly, stepping back with a knowing look. "You see, Maeve, this is why I need
your help. Your motive is finding out what happened to your sister. My motive is different. You
can’t do this without someone on the inside. You need to understand what you're getting into,
and I’m the perfect person to help."

Maeve’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You said you were going to lie to me and make me help
you. How do I know this isn't part of your plan?"

Emile’s eyes darkened with urgency. "Don’t make me say too much. I've come this far. If anyone
found out, our heads would be hanging from my mother's balcony."

Maeve’s voice softened, curiosity piquing through her anger. "Then what’s in it for you?"

Emile’s smile returned, her gaze unwavering. "In our world, some of us are placed where we
aren't meant to be. We should be higher, and to get there, we need to remove those on top.
Some are too stubborn, so I need a team—someone they wouldn’t see coming."

"They?" Maeve asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"My mother, Lady Thornton herself. I want to end this cycle of madness, bring her to her knees,
and I need help from someone who sees through the same peephole as I do."

Maeve’s eyes met Emile’s with a newfound understanding. "So, what is this? You help me find
my sister, and I help you with your mommy issues?"

Emile’s smile was a mix of mischief and resolve. "Oh, Maeve, it’s not just mommy issues. We’re
bringing down an empire—the Thorntons themselves."