Chapter 31
Elara
"What?" Victoria sounded eager and excited like a child being offered candy.
"If people knew the truth about her—about what she did in that motel with Mason, about how she's always throwing herself at Julian." Sloane's voice was casual, almost thoughtful. "If everyone at school knew what kind of girl she really is..."
"I could post about it! On Instagram! On that anonymous school forum!"
"Well..." Sloane's voice was hesitant and uncertain, but I could hear the smile underneath like poison wrapped in silk. "That might be a bit cruel. But if you think it's necessary..."
"It's totally necessary! She deserves it!"
The sound of typing and laughter filled the room, and more typing, and I stood there with the tea tray in my hands and the pastries perfectly arranged like an offering to gods who would never accept it.
I'd heard enough.
I kicked the door open and it slammed into the wall with a bang that made Victoria scream and Sloane jump up from the bed where they'd been hunched over Victoria's laptop like conspirators plotting murder.
They both stared at me frozen in place, their faces caught in expressions of shock and guilt.
I walked in and set the tray down on Victoria's desk hard enough that tea sloshed over the edges and a cup fell over, brown liquid spreading across the white surface like blood.
"You." I looked at Sloane. "You did this."
"Elara." She stood up and smoothed her dress, composing herself with practiced ease. "I don't know what you think you heard, but—"
"You told her to post about me, you told her to ruin my reputation, just like you tried to drug me in Boston."
Victoria's face went pale. "What?"
"Ask her." I pointed at Sloane with a shaking finger. "Ask your perfect Sloane what she put in that champagne and soup."
"That's ridiculous." Sloane's voice was calm and controlled in a way that made me want to scream. "You're clearly upset and maybe you should—"
I slapped her.
The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot and her head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming on her perfect porcelain cheek.
Victoria screamed. "You crazy bitch!"
She lunged at me but I turned and slapped her too, my palm connecting with her face in a satisfying crack.
She stumbled back and hit the bedpost, sliding down to sit on the floor with tears already streaming down her face in ugly sobs.
"Call security!" She was fumbling for her phone. "Call Jules! Call everyone!"
Sloane touched her cheek gently, her eyes wide with shock as tears gathered but didn't fall—she was good at that, keeping them right on the edge for maximum sympathy. "Elara." Her voice trembled with perfect victim intonation. "I know you're going through a lot, but violence isn't the answer. I'm willing to forgive you if—"
"Save it." I turned to leave.
"You're going to regret this!" Victoria was on her phone dialing frantically. "Julian's going to be so mad at you!"
The door opened behind me and a maid—Anna—appeared, looking between us with confusion at Sloane's red cheek and Victoria on the floor.
"Don't let her leave!" Victoria pointed at me with her free hand. "Block the door!"
Anna hesitated for a long moment before stepping in front of the exit, her face apologetic but her body blocking my escape.
I sat down in the chair by the window and crossed my arms. "Fine. I'll wait."
---
Thirty minutes later, car doors slammed outside and footsteps echoed in the hallway—fast, angry, purposeful—and Victoria jumped up from the bed where she'd been nursing her wounded pride.
"He's here!"
The door opened and Julian stood there with his tie loose and his hair slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it in frustration, and his eyes went to Sloane first—always first, always her.
He crossed the room and gently touched her face where the red mark was still visible, his fingers trailing across her skin with tenderness I'd never seen directed at me.
"Does it hurt?" His voice was soft and concerned, the voice he'd never used with me, not even once.
Sloane shook her head and leaned into his shoulder with perfect fragility. "I'm okay. As long as you're here."
Julian's jaw tightened and he looked at me with eyes full of cold fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"She hit us!" Victoria was still crying, her mascara running down her face in black streaks. "She just came in and started hitting us for no reason!"
"No reason?" I stood up slowly. "I heard everything—how you planned to destroy my reputation online, how Sloane encouraged you, how you both think this is funny."
"You're hearing things." Sloane's voice was so reasonable and calm that it made me want to scream. "Maybe the stress is affecting you, maybe you need professional help."
"I need help?" I laughed and it came out harsh and bitter. "You drugged me, you've been stealing my paintings for years, you've been sabotaging my life since you came back, and I need help?"
Julian stepped between us with his body serving as a physical barrier. "That's enough. We're leaving."
He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door with enough force that I stumbled.
"Julian—" Sloane reached for him with perfect timing. "Be gentle with her. She's not well."
He paused and looked back at her, his expression softening in a way that broke something inside me. "I'll handle this. You rest, and I'll come back to check on you later."
She nodded with brave acceptance, the perfect picture of a wronged woman showing mercy.
Victoria glared at me from the bed. "You're dead. You're so dead."
Julian dragged me out and his grip on my wrist was tight enough to leave bruises, tight enough to make my bones ache.
We walked down the hallway with his footsteps heavy and angry while I had to almost run to keep up with his longer stride.
"Let go, you're hurting me."
He didn't let go and didn't slow down, just kept pulling me along like a recalcitrant child being marched to punishment.
Staff members pressed themselves against the walls as we passed, their eyes wide but their mouths shut because no one would dare interfere with Julian Vane when he was angry.
He pulled me into the service stairwell and the door slammed shut behind us, the sound echoing in the enclosed space like thunder.
He released my wrist and I stumbled back until I hit the wall, the cold stone biting through my thin shirt and into my spine.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice was low and dangerous, vibrating with barely controlled rage. "You hit Sloane? You hit Victoria?"