PROLOGUE
October 1903
It was time to go.
The grandfather clock in the sitting area below bonged loudly throughout the house, causing my heart to flutter in anxiety. I grasped the satchel over my shoulder even more tightly against my body as I held my breath in anticipation, my other hand trembling against the cool metal of my room's door knob.
One. Two. Three. Four.
The bongs echoed ominously, the repetitive strokes seeming to keep time with my own fingers' vacillating pressure upon the metal knob-a countdown timer of sorts, attempting to impel me forward even in the face of my fear. And then, almost of its own accord, my hand thrust the handle down, opening the heavy wooden barrier with just enough space so as to allow my thin form to easily slip out into the darkened upstairs hallway. And upon shutting the door silently behind me, I found myself quickly tiptoeing along the carpet-lined floors toward the stairwell-apprehensively taking in my dark surroundings with wide eyes and shallow breaths.
Absolutely empty.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
The oppressive silence of my family's large entryway pressed into me from all sides as I stepped off the bottom step, the candles upon the side tables having been long extinguished many hours before. But as I soundlessly passed through the large dining room and into the empty kitchen area, eyeing the servant's entrance from across the space, I allowed myself a deep exhale of relief. The back door that our household servants used to enter into and exit out of our home day in and day out had thankfully been left unlocked. Elsa, our maid, had come through for me after all.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
The final gong of the clock shook me from my appreciative reverie as I again tightened my steely grip upon the satchel that hung solidly over my shoulder and steadily made my way to the door. And after another deep inhale, I pushed out into the crisp night air, closing the door behind me and allowing myself one last glance toward the home that had felt like anything but for the past 3 years.
I solidly stared at the building's facade in front of me, looking into the darkened windows of the second story as a means of strengthening my somewhat wavering resolve to leave. I raised my head to first view my father's window directly overhead, a boiling resentment surging within my gut as his mustached smirk and empty eyes flashed through my mind-a strong impetus if ever there was one to turn away and never look back. But as my gaze settled on the farthest darkened pair of glass panes, my face suddenly fell in regretful despondency.
"I had to, Anna."
A wave of sickness pulsated throughout my body as my sister's soft voice pierced into me like a sharp dagger, leaving nothing unharmed in its wake. I could feel the tears prick at the edges of my tired eyes, the distance in her icy blue ones from several days before again passing behind my closed lids.
"You've left me and father no other choice."
Yet the memory of the clear, premeditated betrayal her final sentiments alluded to immediately recentered my focus. Thus, with one last mournful glance, I clenched my jaw tightly against the hollow pain reverberating about my insides and nodded dismissively at the large brick building, turning on my heel to make my way in a world beyond the secrets and lies that had been woven so steadily within the Willing family walls for so many years at that point.
The truth had to exist somewhere in the city of New York, and I was betting my life on the hope that I'd come much closer to finding it the further away I pushed from my father's sphere of influence.
And so, with the cool twilight as my shield, I traversed silently through the Manhattan streets, haphazardly making my way to the docks by the East River, and hopefully to someone who could help me.