Chapter 3 - THE WIFE'S DESPERATE DEFENSE
Elena crossed her arms over her diamond necklace, her face twisting into an ugly mask of pure venom and hostility.
"Security! Get this filthy, lying rat out of our estate immediately!" Elena screamed toward the double doors of the grand hall.
Not a single guard moved from their posts, paralyzed by the sudden, suffocating tension that filled the magnificent room.
Marcus raised a tattooed hand, signaling absolute silence with a single twitch of his heavily ringed fingers.
"Nobody moves an inch," Marcus ordered, his tone carrying the chilling authority of a ruthless crime syndicate leader.
Elena’s face turned the color of ash as she realized her husband was no longer listening to her hollow protests.
"Marcus, you're believing a homeless beggar over your own wife of five years?" Elena whimpered, squeezing out a fake tear.
"Shut your mouth, Elena," Marcus snapped, his eyes never leaving the mysterious woman with the reddish-brown hair.
The stranger slowly stepped back, resting her hands casually on her black duffel bag as she watched the drama unfold.
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"Test the liquid in that glass bottle against the wine in his bedside decanter, if you want proof," the stranger offered calmly.
***
