The Gotham Inheritance

Chapter Three – Shadows in the Glass

The crash of shattered glass still echoed as the masked figure lunged across the dining hall, moving with the speed of a predator. His target was clear, the box clutched in Ray’s hand.

“Ray!” Maria screamed, scrambling back from the table.

Ray twisted, instinct more than skill pulling him out of the attacker’s direct path. The intruder’s gloved hand grazed the box, but Ray jerked it close to his chest, stumbling against a chair.

“Guards!” Mrs. Gotham shrieked. “Where are the guards?”

But no footsteps came. The household staff had fled in terror. The intruder’s blade flashed, a short, curved dagger glinting under the chandelier. He slashed, narrowly missing Ray’s arm as Ray threw himself sideways.

The Gotham relatives cowered beneath the table, whispering frantic prayers. The air was thick with fear, the only sounds the intruder’s steady breath and the pounding of Ray’s heart.

“Give me the box!” the masked man growled, his voice rough, distorted.

Ray’s grip tightened. “Over my dead body.”

The words surprised even him. The intruder struck again, forcing Ray against the wall. Maria cried out, rushing forward, but Mrs. Gotham caught her arm.

“Stay back!” her mother hissed, eyes wide, not with fear, but something else. Something colder.

Ray dodged another slash, the dagger slicing into the wallpaper inches from his face. He felt the sting of a cut along his forearm, warm blood seeping. But he refused to let go of the heirloom.

Adrenaline surged. Rage boiled. For years he had endured humiliation in silence. But tonight, the letter, the ring, the revelation, it had awakened something.

He wasn’t going to bow anymore. With a growl, Ray swung the heavy box forward, smashing it into the attacker’s wrist. The dagger clattered to the floor. Gasps erupted around the hall.

The intruder staggered, stunned for a moment, before lunging again. This time Ray tackled him head-on. The two men crashed onto the dining table, sending crystal and silverware flying. Plates shattered, wine spilled like blood across the cloth.

“Ray!” Maria screamed again, tears streaking her cheeks.

The intruder fought with brutal efficiency, twisting, trying to pin Ray. But Ray clung to him with a desperation that surprised even himself. He wasn’t fighting with skill. He was fighting with years of buried fury.

“Who sent you?” Ray demanded, slamming his fist into the man’s mask.

The intruder grunted, struggling, but his silence was answer enough. Ray struck again, the mask cracking slightly. A single, glaring eye peered through the fracture, cold and unrelenting.

Suddenly the intruder bucked, kicking Ray hard in the chest. Ray flew backward, crashing into a chair, gasping for breath. The box tumbled from his grip, skidding across the marble floor.

“No!” Ray scrambled toward it.

But the intruder was faster. He seized the box, clutching it tightly.

Maria cried out. “Stop him!”

Mrs. Gotham stood motionless, her hands clenched, her face unreadable. Not fear. Not panic. But… anticipation.

Ray saw it. And it cut deeper than any dagger.  “Mother?” Maria whispered, noticing it too. “Why aren’t you”

But her words died as the intruder turned sharply, box in hand. Ray lunged again, slamming into the man’s back.

They rolled across the floor, grappling for the heirloom. The parchment slipped out, fluttering across the marble like a wounded bird.

Ray’s hand closed around the ring, tearing it free even as the intruder shoved him back with a vicious elbow. “Who are you?” Ray gasped, holding the ring close.

The intruder froze, his single eye locking on the golden band. For the first time, hesitation flickered. “You wear her blood,” he growled. “Then you should already know.”

“What do you mean?” Ray shouted.

But the man said no more. With a sudden surge of strength, he hurled Ray aside and dashed toward the shattered window. “Stop him!” Maria cried again, but her voice was lost in the chaos.

The intruder leapt through the opening, vanishing into the night as swiftly as he had come. Silence fell. Only Ray’s ragged breathing and Maria’s muffled sobs filled the void.

The box was gone. The letter, gone. All that remained was the ring clenched in Ray’s bloodied fist.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. His gaze swept the room, the broken glass, the terrified relatives, Maria’s trembling frame… and his mother-in-law’s expression.

Mrs. Gotham’s face was pale, but not with fear. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes sharp, calculating. “You knew,” Ray whispered, his voice hoarse.

Her gaze snapped to him. “What?”

“You knew he would come,” Ray said louder, his words slicing through the air. “That’s why you tried to stop me from opening the box. That’s why you’re not surprised.”

Gasps rippled again. All eyes darted between Ray and the matriarch. “Ray” Maria began, but her voice cracked.

Mrs. Gotham straightened, cold composure snapping back into place. “Enough of this nonsense. That man was a thief, nothing more. And you” She jabbed a finger toward Ray. “You brought danger into this house. With your foolishness. With your… obsession.”

Ray’s blood boiled. He took a step forward, the ring gleaming on his finger. “You can lie to them. But not to me. You know something about my mother’s death.”

Mrs. Gotham’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “And if I do? What will you do about it?”

The words hung like poison in the air. Maria staggered back, eyes wide, tears streaming. “Mother… no… Tell me it isn’t true…”

But Mrs. Gotham said nothing. Ray’s chest heaved, fury burning in his veins. For the first time, he felt the shift, the humiliation cracking, giving way to something harder, sharper.

He wasn’t just fighting for dignity anymore. He was fighting for truth. He raised the ring, his voice steady, dangerous. “I’ll find out. With or without you. And when I do… I’ll make sure everyone knows what you’ve done.”

Mrs. Gotham’s smile faltered. The chandelier above flickered, the night wind still howling through shattered glass. And in that moment, Ray realized: the war had begun.