Chapter 8 - The Final Walkthrough
Z
The iron gates of the Vance estate in Greenwich were standing wide open when my car pulled up the winding, tree-lined driveway. The magnificent stone mansion, which had once felt grand and intimidating when I visited as Julian's fiancé, now looked desolate, cold, and hollow under the grey afternoon sky.
A large yellow moving van was parked crookedly near the front steps. Cardboard boxes were piled haphazardly near the open front door.
I stepped out of the vehicle, flanked by two towering, broad-shouldered security officers, and walked up the stone steps into the grand foyer.
The house was in utter chaos. Clothes, half-packed boxes, and discarded packing paper were scattered across the gleaming hardwood floors. In the center of the foyer stood Victoria, wearing an oversized sweater and sweatpants, her hair disheveled, frantically trying to tape shut a heavy cardboard box.
When the sound of my heels echoed off the high ceilings, she snapped her head up.
Her jaw dropped in absolute shock. For a second, pure, fiery rage flared in her eyes, but as her gaze drifted to the two imposing security guards standing behind me, the anger collapsed into pathetic, desperate exhaustion.
"You..." Victoria whispered, her voice hoarse and broken. "What are you doing here? You've taken everything from us... haven't you done enough?"
"I'm here for my father's painting," I said calmly, looking around the stripped foyer. "The landscape hanging in the study. It was a wedding gift from my family, and since the marriage was legally annulled, all gifts are returned to the donor."
Victoria let out a bitter, weeping laugh. "A painting? You came here to gloat over a painting?!"
"I don't need to gloat, Victoria," I said, stepping past her toward the study. "Your reality speaks for itself."
Julian emerged from the hallway, carrying a heavy box of books. When he saw me, he froze, dropping the box. Books tumbled out across the floor with a loud series of thuds.
He looked terrible. He had lost weight in just forty-eight hours; dark shadows were bruised under his eyes, and his hands were trembling uncontrollably.
"Elena..." he stammered, stepping forward, his voice crackling with a desperate, shameful plea. "Elena, please... look around. We have nothing left. The company is gone. My career is over. I'm facing criminal charges... Please, can't you drop the assault complaint? I'm begging you... I will do anything."
I walked into the study, unhooked my father’s framed painting from the wall, and held it tightly against my side. Then I turned around to look at Julian, standing in the doorway like a hollow shell of the man he once pretended to be.
"You asked me if I was going to be a freeloader, Julian," I said, my voice quiet, steady, and terrifyingly cold. "You asked me to earn my keep."
Julian swallowed hard, tears welling in his red eyes.
"This is me earning my keep," I continued, walking past him toward the front door. "I earned every single piece of my freedom, and I took back everything you tried to steal from me."
"You ruined us!" Victoria shrieked from the hallway, tears streaming down her dusty face. "You destroyed my son's life over one morning!"
I stopped at the threshold of the open front door, looking back at the two of them standing amidst their cardboard boxes and ruined lives.
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"No, Victoria," I said, offering that same, perfect eight-tooth smile I had given them on Sunday morning. "Julian destroyed his life the moment he threw that rag. I just helped him clean up the mess."
I turned, stepped down the front porch, and walked to my waiting car, leaving the Vances alone in their empty mansion.
