Chapter 10
Elena’s heart slammed against her ribs as she backed slowly out of the kitchen, her eyes fixed on the dark hallway leading to the parlor. Lily was still huddled on the sofa, too exhausted to notice the subtle change in the air, her breathing shallow and rhythmic. The front door handle jiggled. It was a slow, deliberate movement, followed by the heavy thud of a shoulder pressing against the solid oak paneling. The lock—which Elena had just turned with Clara’s old brass key—did not hold. With a sharp snap of splintering wood, the door swung inward, admitting a gust of cold ocean wind that instantly extinguished the oil lamp on the sideboard, plunging the parlor into near-total darkness. Elena snatched the iron poker from the hearth, her hands slick with nervous sweat as she raised it in front of her like a spear. "Stay back!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the low ceiling. A tall figure stepped through the shattered doorway, silhouetted against the pale moonlight filtering in from the porch. The broad shoulders and tailored silhouette were unmistakable, even in the dim light. It wasn't Julian. It was Thomas. He stood calmly in the wreckage of the doorframe, brushing a speck of dust off the lapel of his midnight-blue suit as if he had merely stepped out of a taxicab. "You really didn't think it would be that easy to disappear, did you, Elena?" Thomas said, his voice smooth and conversational, completely unbothered by the iron poker pointed at his chest. Elena’s hands shook, but she held her ground, stepping slightly in front of the sofa where Lily was beginning to stir. "Get out of here, Thomas. If you take one more step, I swear I'll break your skull with this iron." Thomas let out a low, humorless chuckle, taking a slow step into the room. "Put that down before you hurt yourself, Elena. You’re playing a game you don't understand. Julian isn't some monster out of a gothic novel; he’s a businessman who takes care of his family. And right now, he wants his wife and daughter back where they belong." "He hurt her, Thomas!" Elena shouted, tears of frustration hot on her cheeks. "I saw it in her face, and I heard it from her own lips! You know what kind of man he is. You grew up in the same house!" Thomas stopped, his expression shifting from amusement to a cold, calculated seriousness. The casual facade dropped away, revealing the same ruthless Vance family DNA that ran through Julian’s veins. "Julian is disciplined," Thomas said quietly. "And you are being hysterical. Now, you can either walk out to my car like a sensible woman, or I can call Julian and let him handle this his way. Which do you prefer?"
