Chapter 3 - A Knock at Midnight
By 2:00 AM, I had returned to the sprawling mansion in Greenwich that Julian still believed was his sanctuary. The iron gates parted automatically as my chauffeured Maybach approached—not because the security system recognized Julian anymore, but because the property deed had been transferred to my corporate holdings twenty minutes prior.
I stepped out into the freezing courtyard. The marble floors I had scrubbed with my bare hands just hours ago gleamed under the moonlight.
As I walked up the grand steps, the front door flew open. Julian stood there, disheveled, his expensive Italian suit rumpled, his tie ripped off completely. Beatrice sat slumped on a velvet armchair in the foyer, sobbing hysterically into a damp tissue.
"Eleanor!" Julian screamed, rushing forward, his face flushed with panic and desperate fury. He tried to grab my arm, but my personal security detail stepped forward instantly, blocking his path with cold, impassive efficiency. "What the hell is the game? Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you've done? Every corporate account is locked! The bank just repossessed our commercial loans! Vance Global... you're... you're the Vance?"
"Watch your tone, Julian," I said smoothly, stepping past him into the foyer. I unpinned my diamond earrings and dropped them casually onto the side table. "You told me to stay five steps behind you tonight. I simply decided to lead from the front instead."
"We can fix this!" Julian pleaded, his voice cracking as his bravado completely dissolved into pathetic whining. He dropped to his knees right there on the foyer floor—the exact spot where Beatrice had ordered me to kneel earlier that evening. "Eleanor, please. We've been married for five years. I'll change. I'll treat you right. We can run the company together!"
I looked down at him, my expression completely devoid of pity.
"Five years, Julian," I whispered, leaning in close so he could hear every syllable. "For five years, you watched your mother treat me like an animal. You watched my hands bleed from chemical burns. You told me not to embarrass you at a gala where you planned to sell out your integrity to a company I own."
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Beatrice stumbled out of her chair, her eyes bloodshot and filled with venom. "You ungrateful bitch! You planned this all along! You trapped my son!"
"No, Beatrice," I said, turning to face her with a brilliant, unyielding smile. "I didn't trap him. I simply gave him enough rope to hang himself. And now, eviction notice is served."
