Chapter 2 - Debts Written in Rust
The cellar beneath the Sterling manor smelled of limestone, old damp cedar, and century-old wine. It was where Elena had retreated to dress her minor cuts, sitting on the cold edge of a radiator in the staff alcove. Her mother had worked these halls for twelve years until congestive heart failure claimed her breath, leaving behind four thousand dollars in unpaid medical co-pays and a daughter bound by an unspoken, insidious obligation to finish out the family’s ‘goodwill credit.’
Julian found her sitting in the gray half-light, an ancient green glass bottle of antiseptic and clean gauze cradled in his palms. He didn't ask permission; he simply pulled an upturned wooden crate opposite her and sat down. For a moment, neither spoke, the distant hum of the kitchen dumbwaiter filling the silence.
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"You shouldn't be down here," Elena murmured, keeping her gaze pinned to the floor. "Your father’s guests are arriving for the foundation gala in twenty minutes."
"Let them drink in the dark," Julian replied evenly. He uncapped the bottle, soaking a pad of cotton. "My mother has spent thirty years convincing people that endurance is a virtue when applied to other people's labor. My father agrees because it saves him overhead." He looked up, his pale eyes searching hers with startling gravity. "Show me your hands." When she hesitated, he reached across the small divide and gently closed his fingers around her wrist, turning her palm upward to reveal the jagged red lines tracing her skin.
