Chapter 4
The afternoon sun began to dip lower behind the massive glass windows, casting long amber rays across the expensive Persian rugs and polished marble. Victor walked slowly toward the mahogany desk at the far end of the living room, his footsteps echoing softly. He poured himself a finger of amber whiskey from a heavy crystal decanter, the ice cube clinking against the glass. He did not drink; he simply held the glass, letting the chill calm the rising fury in his chest.
Eleanor remained near the doorway, rocking baby Ethan gently. The baby was fast asleep now, breathing softly against her chest. She cast a sidelong glance at Clara, who stood rigidly by the armchair, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Neither woman spoke. The air was thick with mistrust, an invisible wall built brick by brick over the last two years of their troubled marriage.
Victor took a slow sip of the whiskey before setting the glass down with a sharp clink. He turned around, leaning back against the edge of the mahogany desk. “We are not going to settle this by shouting in the middle of the living room,” he said, his voice controlled and deadly calm. “Clara, go to the staff quarters and wait there. Do not speak to anyone, do not use your phone, and do not leave the room. If you disobey this instruction, you will find yourself blacklisted from every respectable household in this state before tonight is over.”
Clara swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew it was not a negotiation. She nodded stiffly, casting one last worried look toward sleeping baby Ethan, before turning and walking quickly out of the room through the side service door.
As the heavy oak door clicked shut behind Clara, the tension in the room shifted, morphing from explosive confrontation to chilling domestic suspense. Victor walked slowly toward Eleanor, his heavy shoes silent on the rug. He stopped just a few feet away from her, towering over his wife with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.
“Now,” Victor said softly, the intimacy of his tone making it infinitely more terrifying. “Tell me the truth, Eleanor. And do not test my patience.”
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Eleanor’s lower lip quivered slightly, the last remnants of her composure threatening to shatter. She looked up into Victor’s hard, unblinking eyes. “I didn't try to break his arm, Victor. You have to believe me. But... there is something I haven't told you about who was really in this house today.”
Victor narrowed his eyes, the gold watch on his wrist catching the dimming light as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Go on.”
