Chapter 2 - The Viper's Nest
Beatrice Sterling stood in the doorway, dressed in immaculate white cashmere, holding a silver tray with a steaming cup of tea and a small, glass vial of amber liquid. Behind her stood Victoria, her arms crossed, a smug, expectant look on her face.
They expected to find Julian furious at his wife. They expected to find Elena cowering.
Instead, Julian stood between the door and the bed, completely shielding Elena from their view. He slipped the manila folder behind his back.
"Everything is fine, Mother," Julian said. His voice was eerily calm, the exact tone he used in boardrooms right before he destroyed a rival CEO. "Elena and I were just having a misunderstanding."
Victoria sneered. "A misunderstanding? Julian, she had a man sneaking out of the gates at two in the morning. I sent you the photo."
"You did," Julian agreed smoothly. "And Elena just confessed. It was a private jeweler. She was having a custom watch engraved for my birthday next week, and wanted to keep it a secret. You ruined the surprise, Victoria."
Victoria’s smug expression faltered. "A jeweler? At two in the morning? Don't be an idiot, Julian."
Beatrice stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Move aside, Julian. Let me see my daughter-in-law. It’s time for her morning supplement. She looks dreadfully pale."
"She won't be needing the supplement today," Julian said, taking a step forward, forcing Beatrice to take a step back into the hallway. "In fact, I'm taking her to the city. I want my personal physician at Mount Sinai to evaluate her."
Panic, sharp and fast, flashed in Beatrice’s eyes. It was there for only a microsecond, but Julian caught it. It was all the confirmation he needed. Elena was telling the truth. His own mother was slowly murdering his wife and unborn child.
"Nonsense," Beatrice said, her voice hardening. "Dr. Aris is already on his way here. You are not taking her anywhere in her fragile state. She might have a psychotic break. You know how these lower-class girls handle the pressure of our lifestyle."
Julian closed the distance between him and his mother. He leaned in, his imposing height casting a dark shadow over her.
"If Dr. Aris sets foot on this property, I will have my security detail break both of his legs," Julian whispered, his voice dripping with lethal intent. "And if you ever speak about my wife that way again, I will personally see to it that your trust fund is frozen indefinitely. Do we understand each other?"
Beatrice gasped, dropping the silver tray. The porcelain teacup shattered against the hardwood floor; the amber vial rolled away, spilling its toxic contents into the expensive rug.
Julian slammed the bedroom door in their faces and locked the deadbolt.
He turned back to Elena, who was shaking violently. He rushed to the closet, pulling down a duffel bag.
"Get dressed," Julian ordered, tossing soft sweatpants and a sweater onto the bed. "We have less than ten minutes before she cuts the power to the gates and locks us in."
"Julian..." Elena sobbed, overwhelmed. "You believe me?"
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Julian stopped packing and looked at his wife—the woman he loved more than the empire he had built. He saw the black bruises, the fear in her eyes, and felt a tidal wave of protective rage wash over him.
"I believe you," he vowed. "And I am going to burn my family to the ground."
