Chapter 2 - The Whispered Lies
Richard’s gaze flicked from Victoria’s innocent posture to Chloe’s tear-stained face. The red mark on Chloe’s cheek stood out sharply against her pale skin, undeniable proof of the violence that had just occurred. Yet, Richard’s eyes didn’t linger on the bruise. Instead, a familiar tired exhaustion settled into the lines around his mouth, the same look he had worn ever since her mother’s sudden funeral three months ago.
"Chloe," Richard said, his voice dropping into that measured, clinical tone he used during corporate board meetings. "Go to your room. We will discuss this later."
"Father, you didn't see what she—she literally pushed me toward the ledge!" Chloe’s voice rose in panic, stepping away from the balcony and back onto the white marble. "She said this isn't my home anymore. She slapped me!"
Victoria sighed softly, placing a manicured hand gently on Richard’s arm. "Sweetheart, look at her. The grief is making her lash out, inventing stories to push us apart. I only want what’s best for this family."
Chloe stared at her father, waiting for him to pull away from Victoria’s touch, waiting for him to defend her, to look at the evidence written across her face. But Richard merely nodded, his expression hardening against Chloe’s desperation.
"Enough, Chloe," Richard repeated, louder this time. "Go upstairs. Now."
Defeated by the heavy, impenetrable wall of her father’s willful blindness, Chloe turned away. She walked past them, her blue jeans feeling heavy and restrictive, her heart hammering against her ribs. She climbed the curved white staircase, each step feeling like a trudge through wet cement. As she reached the landing, she glanced back down into the living room, expecting them to be arguing, or at least talking in hushed tones.
Instead, Victoria was standing close to Richard, whispering something into his ear while gently stroking the lapel of his dark suit. Richard’s eyes were closed, his head tilted down as if he were absorbing a heavy blow. Then, Victoria looked straight up toward the top of the stairs, directly into Chloe’s eyes.
She wasn't smiling anymore. Her lips parted into a slow, deliberate smirk, and she raised her right hand, slowly sliding her thumb across her own cheek in a silent, mocking imitation of the slap she had just delivered.
Chloe pulled back into the shadows of the hallway, a cold shiver running down her spine. She hurried down the corridor to her bedroom, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her and locking it with a sharp click. She pressed her back against the wood, sliding down until she sat on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.
She needed to think. She needed proof. This house was built by her mother’s family, funded by her grandfather’s software empire. Victoria had only been married to Richard for six weeks, yet she acted like the ancient estate belonged to her. Chloe reached into her back pocket to grab her phone, intending to call her aunt Sarah, her mother’s sister.
May you like
Her fingers brushed against empty denim. The pocket was slack. Her phone was gone.
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