Chapter 4 - The Return
Two days later, the digital clock on the security console read 8:30 AM.
According to Patricia’s schedule, this was her favorite time of the morning. While the staff was busy in the east wing and the girls were upstairs getting ready for school, Patricia usually strolled through the conservatory with a cup of herbal tea, admiring her reflection in the glass and reviewing her plans for the wedding—a lavish, multi-million-dollar ceremony she expected to host on the estate grounds in less than a month.
Upstairs in the private master suite, Patricia was leisurely sipping her tea when the front gates of the estate buzzed open.
A black sedan rolled up the cobblestone driveway.
From my vantage point in the security room, I watched the live monitors as Patricia rushed to the grand foyer window, smoothing down her designer silk blouse, wearing her signature radiant, welcoming smile. She believed I was returning early from my "trip," eager to surprise her, entirely unaware of the storm about to break over her head.
The front door opened.
I stepped into the grand foyer, carrying my suitcase just as I had when I left.
“Julian!” Patricia trilled, rushing forward with open arms, ready to press her cheek against mine in a picture-perfect display of affectionate greeting. “You’re back early! How was Europe? Everything went well, I hope?”
I didn't move. I didn't open my arms. I didn't smile.
I simply dropped my suitcase onto the marble floor with a heavy, echoing thud that reverberated through the vaulted ceiling of the entrance hall.
Patricia stopped mid-step, her arms hovering awkwardly in the air. The radiant smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she quickly masked it with a look of playful confusion.
“Julian? What’s wrong? Is something the matter?” she asked, tilting her head with practiced innocence, her large eyes wide and vulnerable. “Did something happen at the meeting?”
“Europe was wonderful, Patricia,” I said, my voice disturbingly calm, lacking any warmth whatsoever. “The meetings were productive. But the best part of the trip was realizing how much clearer things look when you're watching from a distance.”
Color drained slightly from her cheeks, though she fought hard to maintain her composure. “What... what do you mean by that?”
Before she could speak another word, heavy footsteps echoed from the upper staircase.
Martina and Daniela walked down the steps, hand in hand. Rosa followed closely behind them, carrying their school backpacks. For the first time in months, neither of my daughters looked down at their shoes when Patricia was in the room. They stood tall, their chins held high, flanked by the woman who had protected them when no one else would.
Patricia spun around, her eyes flashing with sudden, sharp irritation. “What are you children doing down here? Go back upstairs—now!”
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“Don’t you dare speak to my daughters that way,” I commanded, stepping directly between Patricia and the girls.
The temperature in the foyer dropped to freezing. Patricia stared at me, the mask finally beginning to crack around the edges, revealing the calculating, ruthless stranger hiding underneath.
