Chapter 12
Marcus turned on his heel and stormed up the grand marble staircase, his heavy footsteps echoing furiously against the stone steps.
Doors slammed upstairs with resounding crashes as he tore through the master closet, throwing clothes into cheap plastic bags in a blind panic.
Downstairs, the ambient jazz music remained dead and silent, replaced by the low, ominous hum of the home's backup generator kicking in.
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Vanessa walked slowly over to the dining table, picking up her wine glass and taking a single, unhurried sip of the vintage red liquid.
She looked at Jessica, who was still trembling in her champagne gold dress, paralyzed by the sheer terror of impending public exposure.
