Chapter 7 - Shards of Venom
Julian lifted his pregnant wife out of the pool in one smooth, fiercely protective motion.
Elena’s soaked pale-blue maternity gown dripped heavily onto the deck as he carried her to a cushioned lounge chair away from the edge.
Maya followed immediately behind, grabbing dry linen towels from a nearby cabana and wrapping them around Elena's shivering shoulders.
Elena clutched Julian’s lapels with white-knuckled desperation, refusing to let him step even an inch away from her side.
"The baby, Julian... I felt her kicking so hard under the water, but now she’s so quiet," Elena cried, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Julian pressed his ear gently against her swollen stomach, closing his eyes as he listened past the wet fabric.
After a torturous heartbeat, he felt a firm, unmistakable flutter beneath his cheek, prompting a breathless sob of relief from his lips.
"She’s fighting, Elena. Our little girl is fighting. She’s alive," Julian whispered, kissing Elena’s wet brow over and over again.
Behind them, amidst the glittering field of shattered crystal and spilled champagne, a bitter groan broke the tension.
Victoria was struggling to push herself up onto her hands and knees, her palms bleeding from the sharp glass fragments.
Her sleek blonde hair was now matted with sticky alcohol, clinging in hideous clumps to her face and neck.
The crimson cocktail dress was torn at the hem, ruined forever, much like the facade of elite respectability she had worn for years.
"You fool, Julian!" Victoria spat, coughing as she tried to regain her footing amidst the slick mess.
She propped herself against the overturned white cocktail table, glaring at her brother with eyes full of venomous hatred.
"Look at her! A nobody who crawled into our family to steal your inheritance, to steal what father left for us!" Victoria screamed.
Julian slowly rose to his feet, turning around to face his sister, his expression devoid of any brotherly affection.
The warmth he had shown Elena vanished, replaced by an arctic, lethal stillness that made Victoria flinch backward.
"You tried to murder my wife and my unborn child with your bare hands, Victoria," Julian said, his voice terrifyingly quiet.
"It was an accident! The brakes slipped! She rolled in, and I tried to catch her!" Victoria lied desperately, her voice rising in panic.
Maya stepped forward, her soaked clothes clinging to her athletic frame, her eyes piercing through Victoria’s pathetic defense.
"I saw you with my own eyes," Maya declared with crystal-clear authority that echoed across the quiet penthouse deck.
"You gripped both handles, leaned your full weight into it, and shoved her strapped into that chair," Maya stated coldly.
Victoria’s eyes darted frantically toward the glass doors of the indoor lounge, looking for any ally, any escape route.
"Nobody will take your word over mine, you little nobody!" Victoria shrieked, pointing a bloody, shaking finger at Maya.
"You're a trespasser! A hired hand! I am a Sterling! This is my penthouse!" Victoria screamed, losing her grip on sanity.
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Julian took one heavy, deliberate step toward her, the wet leather of his shoes squeaking against the stone.
"This was your penthouse," Julian corrected her coldly. "Now, it's a crime scene."
