Chapter 2
Julian pulled a thick wool blanket from one of the patio loungers, wrapping it tightly around his mother’s shivering shoulders. Martha continued to cough, clutching Julian’s arm with a grip that belied her frail appearance. Her silver hair was soaked, clinging to her damp forehead, and her eyes darted nervously toward the doorway leading back into the magnificent house.
Victoria had already vanished inside, her black high heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor of the grand foyer. She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who believed she owned the keys to the kingdom, both literally and figuratively. Julian, however, had no intention of letting her slip away into the dark corridors of the family estate. He carefully lifted Martha back into her metal wheelchair, ensuring her posture was secure before locking the wheels in place.
“We need to get you inside, Mother,” Julian said, his voice low, steady, and laden with a suppressed anger that threatened to boil over at any moment. “And we need to have a very serious conversation about how she gained access to the security codes.”
Martha shook her head weakly, her pale lips trembling. “She didn’t need codes, Julian. She found the ledger in the study. The one your father kept before he passed. Everything we’ve built, everything your grandfather worked for, she believes it belongs to her by right of some ancient grievance.”
Julian pressed his lips into a thin line. He remembered his father’s final days, the hazy paranoia that had clouded the old man’s mind, and the mysterious documents that had vanished from the safe shortly after the funeral. Victoria had entered their lives six months ago as a charming financial consultant, a woman with recommendations impeccable enough to fool even Julian’s sharp corporate instincts. Now, wrapped in deceit and wet designer clothing, her true nature stood revealed in the harshest light possible.
They crossed the threshold into the expansive foyer. The air inside was warm, smelling faintly of expensive perfume and damp stone. Victoria stood at the base of the sweeping staircase, her arms crossed over the crimson fabric of her gown. She looked down at them not as an intruder caught in the act, but as a queen surveying rebellious peasants who had dared to cross her throne room.
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“You’re making a tremendous mistake, Julian,” Victoria said, her voice smooth and devoid of any genuine remorse. “This house was never truly yours to protect. Your family’s foundation was built on stolen ground, and I am simply collecting the interest.”
Julian stepped in front of his mother’s wheelchair, placing himself physically between Victoria and the woman who had raised him. His eyes narrowed, burning with a fierce protective instinct. “You tried to murder an elderly woman in her own backyard. There is no financial restructuring, no legal loophole that will save you from what I am about to do.”
