Chapter 4 - The Whispers in the Wall
Claire backed away from the nightstand, her eyes wide with terror. He had known. Every agonizing day she spent thinking she was free, Julian had been in the shadows, watching her like a specimen under a microscope.
Why? Why let her live in poverty for three months if he could have taken her back on day one?
The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway snapped her out of her stupor. She quickly backed away from the bed, smoothing down her coat just as the door opened and Julian stepped inside. He had removed his tuxedo jacket, unbuttoned his collar, and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his pale, muscular forearms.
"The fire is warm," he said softly, leaning against the doorframe. "You're shivering, Claire."
"Why did you wait?" Claire blurted out before she could stop herself.
Julian tilted his head, a faint, dangerous smile playing on his lips. "Pardon?"
"The notebook," she said, pointing a trembling finger at the nightstand. "You tracked me. You knew I was living in Queens. You knew I was working for the catering company. Why didn't you bring me back weeks ago?"
Julian walked slowly into the room, his shoes making no sound on the thick oriental rug. He stopped inches from her, reaching out to cup her neck with his right hand. His thumb pressed lightly against her pulse.
"Because you needed to learn a lesson, my love," he whispered smoothly. "You thought you hated this life. You thought you hated the wealth, the rules, the expectations. I needed you to see what the world is really like out there for a woman with no family, no money, and no name. I wanted you to suffer just enough so that coming back to me felt like salvation."
"You're sick," Claire spat, tears of anger rising in her eyes. She tried to pull away, but his hand tightened on her neck, pinning her in place without choking her.
"I am pragmatic," Julian corrected coldly. "I gave you a second chance. Most men in my position would have had you institutionalized for what you did. You destroyed three million dollars worth of property when you burned the cottage. You humiliated me."
"You killed Evelyn!" Claire screamed, the words bursting from her lungs before her rational mind could suppress them.
The air in the room instantly turned to ice.
Julian's hand froze on her neck. The faint smile on his lips vanished entirely, replaced by a mask of such absolute, demonic stillness that Claire forgot how to breathe.
"What did you just say?" Julian asked, his voice dropping into a register so low it was almost a whisper.
Claire swallowed hard, realizing her fatal mistake. She had played her final card too early. But there was no taking it back now.
"I found the safety deposit box key in your study before I left," Claire said, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the terror paralyzing her limbs. "I opened it. I saw the police reports from seven years ago. I saw the coroner's photos of Evelyn Vance—Victoria's elder sister. You didn't just break her heart, Julian. You ran her car off the cliff road in Greenwich."
Julian stared at her for five endless seconds. Then, slowly, his chest began to heave as a low, dark chuckle escaped his throat.
"Oh, Claire..." Julian sighed, shaking his head with genuine amusement. "My poor, foolish little wife. You really think you understand what happened seven years ago?"
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He stepped closer, pressing his face so near to hers she could feel the cold heat of his breath against her cheek.
"Evelyn didn't die because of me," Julian whispered into her ear. "She died because of what she found out about your family. And if you ever speak that name again, I won't just lock you in this house... I'll ensure you join her in the dirt."
