Chapter 2 - The Fall of Eleanor Sterling
“Unruly brats?” Julian repeated, his voice dangerously low. He closed the distance between himself and Eleanor in three massive strides.
Eleanor took a step back, her confident facade cracking slightly as she took in the murderous look on her fiancé’s face. “Julian, darling, they’re just acting out because their favorite maid is leaving. You know how children lie—”
“Shut your mouth,” Julian roared. The sound echoed off the neighboring mansions, a primal sound of a father protecting his young.
He grabbed Eleanor by the wrist, dragging her toward the trembling children. “Look at them, Eleanor! Look at their arms. Mia says you locked them in the panic room. Chloe says you scratched her when she tried to stop you from hiding that damn diamond in Clara’s room.”
“That’s absurd!” Eleanor gasped, trying to yank her hand away, but Julian’s grip was like iron. “They are little sociopaths! They’ve hated me since day one. They did that to themselves to frame me!”
Clara didn’t wait for Julian to respond. She stood up, shielding the girls behind her, and stepped right into Eleanor’s personal space. “The panic room has a biometric lock, Miss Sterling,” Clara said, her voice dripping with cold precision. “Only you, Mr. Vance, and the head of security have access. The girls couldn't have locked themselves in. And as for the scratches?” Clara grabbed Eleanor’s left hand, forcibly displaying the massive, custom-cut emerald ring on her index finger. The sharp prong setting was tipped with a tiny, unmistakable speck of dried blood.
Eleanor yanked her hand back as if burned, her face turning the color of chalk.
Julian stared at the ring. The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. The illusion shattered completely. He didn't just see a liar; he saw a monster he had almost married.
“Security!” Julian bellowed, pressing a button on his smartwatch. Within seconds, two burly men in suits sprinted down the driveway.
“Get this woman off my street,” Julian ordered, his voice laced with absolute disgust. “Pack her bags. Throw them out the front gates. If she attempts to enter my property again, or if she ever comes within fifty feet of my daughters, call the police and press charges for child abuse.”
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“Julian, you can't do this! I am Eleanor Sterling! I'll ruin you! I'll tell the press you're unstable!” Eleanor shrieked as the security guards took her by the arms.
“Tell them whatever you want,” Julian said, turning his back on her. “You are nothing to me.”
