Chapter 4 - The Kneeling Beggars
The heavy black wrought-iron gates groaned as the motorized hydraulic pistons pushed them open.
Richard and Eleanor stumbled onto the reflective white marble courtyard like shipwreck survivors seeing dry land. They took three hesitant steps toward the grand portico of the mansion, their jaws dropping as they took in the soaring limestone columns, the crystal chandeliers glowing through the two-story arched windows, and the immaculate bronze fountains.
Then their eyes traveled to the top of the grand marble steps.
I stood framed beneath the central archway, radiant in my rose-embroidered gown, looking down at them with cold, unwavering composure.
"Victoria...?" Eleanor gasped, her voice cracking into a ragged, desperate sob. "My God... Victoria!"
Eleanor dropped to her knees on the marble floor, crawling forward with trembling, mud-caked hands. Richard followed, sinking onto both knees beside her, his shoulders shaking as he looked up at me as though staring at an apparition.
They dragged their knees across the marble until their filthy, stained hands touched the hem of my voluminous gown.
"Victoria, my sweet baby girl," Eleanor wept, clawing desperately at the silk rose petals of my dress. "Look at you! We always knew you were destined for greatness! We always knew you had our blood in your veins!"
Richard grabbed at the folds of my gown, tears carving tracks through the grime on his hollow cheeks. "Victoria, please! Forgive your old man! We made mistakes... terrible, horrible mistakes! But blood is thicker than water! We are still your family!"
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I looked down at their dirty fingers clutching the fabric of my dress. I did not pull away. I did not scream. I stood perfectly still, my arms crossed, letting them display the full depth of their degradation.
"Family?" I asked, my voice ringing with crystalline clarity across the courtyard. "Fifteen years ago, Richard, you told me I was a burden. You told me not to call. You told me you were starting fresh."
