Chapter 3 - Poisoned Bloodlines
Refusing to lose everything he had spent his entire life abusing, Julian’s terror twisted into a desperate, feral rage. He scrambled to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and pulled a concealed obsidian blade from the inner lining of his leather jacket. "You think a piece of paper from a dead era protects you, old man?" he sneered, his voice cracking with madness as he lunged forward, aiming the dark, jagged blade directly at Jonathan's exposed throat. Clara screamed, throwing herself out from behind the velvet curtains to block the attack, but Jonathan was far faster than his advanced age betrayed.
With terrifying, mechanical precision, the old lord sidestepped the blade, catching Julian’s wrist mid-air. The wrist joint cracked loudly under Jonathan’s crushing grip, and Julian shrieked in agony as the obsidian blade clattered uselessly onto the marble floor. Jonathan leaned in close, bringing his face inches from Julian’s ear, his breath hot and icy cold all at once. "I didn't just fund your family's luxurious life, Julian," Jonathan whispered, his tone dropping into a deadly, chilling calm that froze the blood in Julian's veins. "I gave your father the financial terms, and I gave your mother the child he was physically incapable of providing. Ask Eleanor who your real father is before you pull a knife on me again."
