Chapter 4
Inside the brightly lit kitchen, Clara poured herself a glass of expensive vintage wine, swirling the dark liquid in a crystal goblet as she admired her reflection in the polished marble countertops. The house was finally hers, devoid of the persistent coughing fits and the medicinal odors that had offended her refined sensibilities for years. She hummed a tune, feeling invincible. She assumed Julian was halfway across the Pacific Ocean by now, trapped in a tin can of an airplane with no way of knowing what transpired in his absence.
She checked her diamond-studded wristwatch. It had been ten minutes since she forced the old woman out. By now, Martha would have dragged herself down the driveway toward the main road, disappearing into the anonymity of the sprawling suburb. Clara smiled cruelly, taking a slow sip of the wine. She planned to tell Julian a neat, fabricated lie upon his eventual return—that his mother had packed her bags voluntarily, expressing a sudden desire to live in a specialized care facility closer to her old friends. Julian, she reasoned, would feel guilty for a few days, but he would ultimately accept it as a practical solution.
Her peaceful reverie was abruptly shattered by the harsh, unmistakable sound of tires screeching on the gravel driveway outside. The gravel crunched violently under heavy acceleration, followed by the slamming of car doors.
Clara froze, her wineglass hovering inches from her lips. Her heart skipped a beat. No taxi would return this fast, and no delivery service operated in this rural estate at midnight. She hurried to the kitchen window, parting the sheer linen curtains with trembling fingers.
May you like
Below, illuminated by the flashing headlights of a black sedan, Thomas leaped out of the driver's seat, holding a large umbrella. But it was the second figure emerging from the backseat that sent a wave of sheer terror crashing over Clara. Julian. His gray suit was drenched, his tie ripped off, and his face a mask of unbridled fury. He didn't even bother using an umbrella as he marched toward the grand entrance, his eyes locked dead on the front doors.
Clara dropped her wineglass. The crystal shattered against the tile floor, red liquid pooling like blood across the pristine white tiles. The illusion of her victory had evaporated in a single heartbeat.
