Chapter 5 - THE UNCLE’S VISIT
The following morning at 10:00 AM, a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up the curved stone driveway of the Blake estate.
Stepping out of the vehicle was Richard Blake—a silver-haired, impeccably dressed man in his late fifties, carrying a gold-tipped walking cane and wearing a tailored camel-hair coat.
Destiny was in the central foyer, placing fresh yellow roses in a glass vase, when the heavy front doors were opened by the butler.
Richard walked in, his sharp blue eyes sweeping across the grand hall with an owner's arrogance.
"Ah, the new staff," Richard remarked, his tone dripping with patronizing superiority as he handed his wet coat to the butler. "Where is my nephew?"
"Mr. Blake is in a board meeting downtown, sir," the butler replied politely. "He wasn't expecting you."
"Matthew never expects me," Richard chuckled smoothly, leaning on his cane as he turned his attention to Destiny. "And who is this young lady?"
"This is Destiny Williams, sir," the butler introduced. "She is Samuel's primary caregiver."
Richard’s posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. His blue eyes narrowed into sharp, cold slits as he looked Destiny up and down.
"Caregiver?" Richard echoed, taking two slow steps toward her, his cane tapping rhythmically against the marble floor. "I thought Matthew had hired a team of medical specialists from Boston."
"The specialists were dismissed, Mr. Blake," Destiny said, keeping her chin up, meeting his gaze with absolute composure. "Samuel is responding better to a quiet environment."
Richard’s smile turned thin and dangerous. "Is he now? And what exactly does an uncredentialed girl from East Atlanta know about neurological recovery?"
"I know that children heal when they feel safe," Destiny answered smoothly, her hands steady on the glass vase. "And I know when someone is making a child feel unsafe."
The air in the grand foyer went dead cold.
Richard’s smile vanished completely. He stepped closer to Destiny, his gold-tipped cane pressing lightly against the toe of her shoe.
"Listen to me very carefully, girl," Richard whispered, his voice like iron sliding over stone. "This family has suffered enough tragedy. Matthew is emotional, unstable, and throwing money at miracles. You are an employee. Do not get comfortable in this house. People who pry into Blake family business often find themselves out on the street—or worse."
Before Destiny could answer, the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet sounded from the top of the grand staircase.
Destiny looked up.
Standing at the top of the mahogany stairs, holding the wooden railing with both of his small hands, was Samuel.
He wasn't in his wheelchair. He was standing on his own two feet, his tiny body trembling with raw terror, his eyes locked onto Richard.
Richard froze, looking up at the boy in utter shock. "Samuel...?"
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Samuel lifted his right arm, pointing his small finger directly down at Richard’s face, his chest heaving as he opened his mouth.
"BAD MAN!" Samuel screamed, his voice raw, loud, and echoing through the entire three-story foyer. "BAD MAN KILLED MOMMY!"
