Chapter 8: The Packed Bag
Ten minutes later, security escorted a crying, screaming Victoria out the front doors of the estate. In the foyer, her belongings had been hastily thrown together. A suitcase lay open on the floor, an absolute mess of expensive fabrics—jeans, silk blouses, and a beige sweater—shoved inside indiscriminately by the furious staff. The zipper was broken. She was shoved out into the cold night rain, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind her.
Upstairs, Julian sat by the bathtub, gently washing the grime and dried blood from Mary Jane’s arms. The little girl hadn't spoken a word. The silence in the house was no longer tense; it was heavy with trauma and the looming threat of the unknown. Julian knew a woman like Victoria, a master manipulator who had seamlessly infiltrated his life, wouldn't just walk away. The rage in him hadn't subsided; it had crystallized into cold, hard purpose.
