Chapter 1 - Severed Knots
Julian’s briefcase hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. For a second, the lavish master bedroom seemed to contract, suffocated by the stench of Victoria’s expensive perfume and the coppery tang of fresh blood. The chandelier’s crystal teardrops shuddered under the draft from the hallway.
Julian did not look back at his wife. His focus remained pinned to Hannah, whose pale wrists were suspended from the carved mahogany headboard by linen strips soaked through with crimson. Strapped against her chest, the newborn let out a shallow, fluttery breath, oblivious to the nightmare framing his slumber.
“You think this is a game, Victoria?” Julian whispered. His voice lacked volume, but the tremor running through it was sharp enough to slice glass.
Victoria took another leisurely sip of her rosé, leaning one shoulder against the doorway. “A game? No, Julian. It’s discipline. Your precious little nursery girl forgot her place. She spoke out of turn. She dared to hold Leo when I explicitly told her to leave him in the nursery.”
“She is bleeding,” Julian snarled, lunging forward. He reached into his pocket and flicked open a pocketknife. With two swift, deliberate motions, he severed the bloodied cloth.
Hannah gasped, her arms dropping heavily. The sudden rush of restored circulation brought excruciating pins and needles, making her grimace in agony, yet her instinct was instantaneous: she curled forward, wrapping her bruised, trembling arms around the baby harness to shield the boy.
“Julian, step away from her,” Victoria commanded, her composed facade cracking into a sneer. “She took him without permission. She’s an unstable commoner. You don't know what she's capable of.”
Julian turned slowly, his eyes dark with a fury Victoria had never seen in their seven years of marriage. “I know what you are capable of, Victoria. Torturing a woman while she holds an infant? In our home?”
“Our home?” Victoria scoffed, setting her glass down on an antique vanity with a sharp clatter. “This estate belongs to the Cole lineage. My father financed your firm, Julian. Without me, you are nothing. And that bastard child strapped to her chest won’t change a thing.”
Hannah flinched, tightening her grip on the sleeping infant. She looked up at Julian, tears carving clean paths through the grime and dried blood on her cheeks.
May you like
“Mr. Cole,” Hannah murmured, her throat raw and cracked. “She didn’t just tie me up. Look inside the desk drawer. Look at what she had prepared before you came home.”
Julian froze. Slowly, his gaze shifted toward Victoria, whose pale eyes suddenly widened in alarm.
