Chapter 3: The Shattered Deceit
The front door opened.
It wasn't supposed to be Julian for another twelve hours. But Julian had seen the feed. He had watched the first two minutes of the encounter in absolute, paralyzed horror, and then, he had moved with the speed of a man possessed. He had caught a private jet, landed, and driven like a madman to reach the house.
He walked through the door just as Seraphina was leaning down to deliver another insult.
"Julian!" Seraphina gasped, her transition from cruel tormentor to damsel in distress so swift it was mechanical. She instantly fell to her knees, clutching her own arm as if she were the one who had been attacked. "Oh, thank God you’re home! She... she went completely crazy! She tried to hit me, Julian, she’s been screaming for hours!"
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, glistening with fake, performative tears. She was waiting for him to rush to her side, to comfort her, to call the police on Clara.
But Julian didn't move. He stood in the doorway, his face not one of panic or comfort, but of a terrifying, hollow stillness. His eyes weren't looking at Seraphina. He was looking at the ceiling, then back down at the scene on the marble floor.
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"Julian? Why are you just standing there?" Seraphina stammered, her heart beginning to flutter with a sudden, cold dread. "Get her out of here! She’s hurting me!"
Julian stepped forward, his leather shoes clicking sharply on the floor. He didn't reach for Seraphina. He walked straight to Clara, kneeling down and carefully pulling her into his arms, his touch as gentle as if she were made of glass.
