Chapter 2 - The Crimson Reflection
The silence that followed Julianna’s frantic accusation was heavy, broken only by the sharp, rhythmic dripping of blood onto marble and Eleanor's shallow, agonizing breaths. Eleanor tried to lift her head, her hand trembling violently as she reached toward Marcus. Her lips parted, trying to form his name, but all that escaped her throat was a wet, choked sob. The glass shards dug into her arms and hips, but the physical pain on her skin was nothing compared to the tearing sensation deep within her abdomen.
"Marcus..." Eleanor finally managed to whisper, her eyes pleading through a haze of tears. "The baby... please... save the baby..."
Marcus slowly stepped forward, his leather tuxedo shoes crunching loudly over the sea of shattered glass. He looked down at his wife, then turned his gaze back to Julianna, who was still kneeling on the floor, weeping hysterically into her hands. Marcus’s mind was a chaotic battleground. He was a man built on control, logic, and cold corporate strategy, but what lay before him was emotional carnage.
"Julianna," Marcus said, his voice dangerously quiet, vibrating with a low rumble. "What did you just say?"
Julianna looked up, her green eyes wide and shining with simulated panic. She crawled forward on her knees, ignoring the sharp glass pressing into her velvet gown, and grabbed the hem of Marcus's trousers. "She found out, Marcus! She found out about the offshore accounts! She came into the dining room screaming at me, accusing me of sabotaging her father's trust fund. I tried to calm her down, but she grabbed me by the hair! She threw herself backward to make it look like I hurt her! She’s insane, Marcus! She wants to destroy us both!"
Eleanor’s eyes widened in horror at the sheer audacity of Julianna’s lies. "No... Marcus, no... she pushed me..." Eleanor gasped, a fresh wave of contractions ripping through her body, causing her to double over on the floor. "She... she hit my back... check the security..."
At the mention of security, Julianna’s heart skipped a beat, but her expression didn't falter for a single second. She knew something Eleanor didn't: two hours before the dinner party, Julianna had paid the head of estate security fifty thousand dollars to disable the feed in the main dining hall. Or so she believed. She didn't know that Marcus had recently installed an independent, military-grade encrypted surveillance system managed entirely by his personal device—a system represented by the tiny black dome camera blinking red on the ceiling above.
Marcus looked down at Eleanor, his face an unreadable mask of cold stone. "Eleanor, don't move. You're bleeding." He reached into his tuxedo jacket, pulled out his phone, and speed-dialed his private physician. "Dr. Harrison, get the trauma unit to the Vance estate immediately. My wife has suffered severe trauma. Prepare the emergency delivery room."
He ended the call, lowered his phone, and looked at Julianna. "Get up."
Julianna stumbled to her feet, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, watching Marcus closely. "Marcus, you have to call the police. She's dangerous! If she loses that baby, she'll blame me!"
"I said, get up!" Marcus snapped, his tone so harsh that Julianna flinched backward. Marcus knelt down beside Eleanor, carefully avoiding the sharpest pieces of glass. He slipped his hands beneath Eleanor’s shoulders and knees, lifting her gently into his arms. As he stood up, Eleanor’s head rolled against his chest, her pink silk robe stained deep crimson around her waist.
"Marcus... do you believe her?" Eleanor whispered, her consciousness slipping as the blood loss mounted. "Tell me you don't..."
Marcus looked into his wife's pale, fading face. He did not say 'I believe you.' He did not say 'I love you.' He simply stared into her eyes with a terrifying, hollow intensity.
"I believe in evidence, Eleanor," Marcus said coldly. "And right now, you are going to survive long enough to answer my questions."
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He carried her out of the room, leaving Julianna standing alone among the broken glass. As soon as the double doors closed behind Marcus, Julianna’s tears instantly vanished. Her hysterical expression melted away, replaced by a cold, calculating grin. She looked down at the blood-stained glass, then walked over to the corner of the room to retrieve her clutch bag.
"Enjoy your final night as a Vance, Eleanor," Julianna whispered to the empty room. "Because by morning, your baby will be gone, and you'll be in a psychiatric cell."
