Chapter 2
Julian’s inquiry hung heavily in the air, creating a brief vacuum of silence that allowed the ambient ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner to fill the room. Victoria was the first to recover her composure, smoothing down the front of her gold wrap dress with a practiced, dismissive gesture. She cast a sidelong glance at Julian, her expression shifting instantly from unmitigated rage to a mask of wounded innocence, though the hard glint in her blue eyes remained entirely unchanged. She knew how to play the grieving, neglected partner, a role she had rehearsed meticulously throughout their engagement.
"Julian, thank goodness you're finally down here," Victoria purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she stepped past Clara and closed the physical distance between herself and Julian. "Your mother has been entirely unreasonable. I merely suggested that we begin organizing the estate paperwork before the lawyers arrive tomorrow morning, and she flew into a complete rage. Clara had to physically intervene as if I were some sort of criminal trying to rob the place."
Clara lowered the wooden walking cane slightly, though her grip never loosened. Her chest heaved with indignation as she shot Victoria a look of sheer disbelief. "That is an absolute lie, Mr. Julian!" Clara interjected, her voice sharp and ringing with authority earned through thirty years of unbroken service to the Sterling family. "She didn't mention paperwork at all. She demanded that your mother sign over the deed to the coastal property immediately, threatening to cut off her medical aides if she refused. She was leaning over her like a vulture."
Margaret did not speak, but she slowly raised a thin, age-spotted hand to gesture for quiet. Her silence was far more powerful than any shouting match. She turned her head slightly to look directly at her son, watching how he processed the conflicting accounts. Julian stood rigidly between them, his jaw clenched tight. He knew Victoria’s ambition; it was a flaw he had excused for months under the guise of shared social ambition, but seeing her aggressively loom over his wheelchair-bound mother in her own home felt entirely different. It crossed an invisible line that could not be uncrossed.
"Victoria," Julian said quietly, his voice dangerously low as he stepped away from her touch. "Leave us. Now."
Victoria’s jaw dropped slightly in genuine shock. She had expected Julian to immediately take her side, to smooth things over and admonish the maid for speaking out of turn. Instead, she found herself dismissed in front of the domestic staff. Her face flushed a dangerous shade of crimson beneath her foundation. "You’re listening to the hired help over the woman you’re supposed to marry?" she whispered, her voice trembling with indignation.
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"I said, leave," Julian repeated, his eyes locking onto hers with a coldness that chilled the room faster than the autumn wind outside. Victoria realized pushing further tonight would ruin her long-term game. With a flick of her wrist and a venomous glare at Clara, she turned on her heel and stormed out toward the East Wing guest quarters, the heavy doors slamming behind her with a definitive thud.
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