Chapter 2 - The Red Wine Stain
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I stopped dead just outside the kitchen doorway, concealed by the shadows of the corridor.
Leah knelt on the cold marble floor with a wet, dirty cloth gripped in her hand. The gray uniform hanging from her body was far too large at the shoulders and painfully tight across the swell of her six-month pregnancy. One sleeve was violently torn at the seam. Her beautiful hair had been pulled into an untidy, desperate knot. The skin across her knuckles was raw, red, and cracked from harsh chemicals. She looked terrifyingly thinner than when I had left her six weeks earlier.
My mother, Celia, stood over her, holding a crystal wineglass filled with dark red vintage. Vanessa leaned against the marble island, recording the scene on her smartphone with a cruel smirk. My younger brother, Grant, watched from the doorway with a glass of my locked, twelve-year-old whiskey in his hand.
“You missed the corner,” Celia said, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction.
She slowly tipped her crystal glass forward.
Dark red wine poured directly across the pristine floor Leah had just spent agonizing minutes cleaning. The liquid spread rapidly around her bruised knees, soaking the bottom hem of the maid’s uniform.
“Mom, that bottle costs six hundred dollars,” Vanessa laughed, not taking her eyes off her phone screen.
“Then Leah should be deeply grateful she gets to touch something so valuable,” Celia replied smoothly.
Leah did not look up. She did not argue. She merely reached forward with her trembling, blistered hands and began wiping the wine.
I had entered burning kitchens during gas leaks. I had faced hostile investors while entire multimillion-dollar projects collapsed around me. I had terminated ruthless executives who threatened me across boardroom tables. But none of those moments prepared me for the freezing, absolute coldness that settled inside my chest at that second.
I stepped into the harsh light of the kitchen.
No one noticed me immediately. I placed my leather bag quietly on the floor, removed my tailored coat, and walked straight toward Leah.
Grant saw me first. The whiskey glass stopped halfway to his open mouth.
“Adrian?” he choked out.
Vanessa spun around so quickly that her phone slipped from her manicured hand and landed with a splash in a sink full of soapy water. My mother’s arrogant face instantly became a blank, unreadable mask.
May you like
Leah finally lifted her head.
The sheer terror in her eyes frightened me more than the torn uniform, the spilled wine, or her bleeding blisters. She did not look relieved to see her husband. She looked exactly like a person who feared my sudden arrival might make her punishment infinitely worse.
