Chapter 7
Back in the grand foyer, the confrontation between Julian and Clara had reached a boiling point. Clara, realizing that her lies had been completely exposed by the maid, abandoned her facade of innocence. Her face contorted into an ugly scowl, her eyes flashing with venomous resentment as she stared up at her husband.
"Fine! You want the truth? Yes, I threw her out!" Clara shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria. "I am sick and tired of living in her shadow! This is my house, bought with my father’s investments, yet everyone treats it like a nursing home for your decrepit mother! She coughs, she groans, she takes up space, and she looks at me with those judgmental old eyes every single day! I couldn't take it another second!"
Julian stared at his wife, feeling as though a stranger stood before him. For seven years, he had believed Clara was compassionate, elegant, and kind. He had overlooked her materialistic tendencies, blaming them on her upbringing. But standing here, watching her justify the attempted manslaughter of an elderly woman in a freezing storm, Julian saw the rot at the core of their marriage.
"Your father’s investments?" Julian said, his voice dangerously low. "Let me remind you of something, Clara. When we married, your family’s business was bankrupt. Every single luxury you currently enjoy—this estate, your designer clothes, your social status—was built on the foundation of my mother’s lifelong savings and my own relentless work. My mother signed over her own ancestral home to give us our start."
Clara scoffed, crossing her arms again, though a flicker of panic crossed her eyes. "That was years ago! She was just helping her son!"
"And how do you repay her?" Julian demanded, taking a step forward until he was towering directly over her. "By abusing her? By locking her out in the rain to die?"
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"She's old! She would have died soon anyway!" Clara screamed in a fit of pure, unadulterated malice, her words hanging suspended in the heavy air of the foyer.
Julian stopped dead. The words echoed in the marble hall, stripping away any remaining shred of marital bond. There was no going back from this. The chasm between them was now an unbridgeable abyss.
