Chapter 2 - The Testimony of the Bruise
Martha Vance didn't try to stand. She stayed on her knees on the cold marble floor, her body trembling so hard her linen apron rustled like dry corn husks in the wind.
Julian slammed down onto his knees beside his crying son, his massive frame shivering with an adrenaline surge that made his teeth grind together. He ignored his wife entirely. His gaze locked onto Martha's face.
Close up, the injury on the maid's cheek was terrifying. It wasn't a scrape or an accidental bump; it was a heavy, blunt impact mark—the exact size and shape of a heavy gold signet ring. Tears, hot and silent, streamed continuously down Martha’s bruised cheek, washing over the purple welt and dropping onto the white linen collar of her dress.
Her breath came in ragged, hyperventilating gasps. She looked straight into Julian’s dark eyes, her lip quivering so violently she could barely articulate the words.
"She... she hurts the baby whenever you're away, Mr. Sterling," Martha wept, her voice a hollow, shattered whisper that cut through the child's screams. "Every time... every time you leave the city... she comes into the nursery. I tried to stop her today, sir. I tried to stand between them... and she struck me."
"That is a lie!" Victoria shrieked behind them, her manicured nails digging into her own thighs as she leaned over the child. "Julian, look at her! She's old! She's senile! She dropped Leo on the stone floor, and when I tried to pull him away, she stumbled into the doorframe! She’s trying to cover her own negligence!"
Julian didn't look at Victoria. He slowly lowered his head toward Martha, his ear inches from her trembling lips.
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"Is this the truth, Martha?" Julian asked, his voice dropping into a register so low and quiet it was more dangerous than a roar. "Look at me. Is this the truth?"
"On my mother's grave, sir," Martha choked out, lifting her tear-streaked face. "She hates the boy. She calls him a bastard. She wants your legacy for herself."
