Chapter 4 - The Incontrovertible Proof
The private medical courier arrived at precisely two o'clock in the afternoon, handing a sealed manila envelope directly to Julian in his study. I stood near the window, watching the rain begin to streak the glass, while Valentina sat on the rug coloring with crayons Julian had hurriedly had delivered from town.
Julian broke the seal with a silver letter opener, his hands completely steady, though his jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He pulled out the multi-page document, his eyes scanning the dense medical jargon down to the final summary paragraph.
He didn't need to read it aloud. The numbers and percentages spoke for themselves.
Julian placed the papers face down on the mahogany desk and walked over to where I stood. He stopped inches away, looking down into my eyes with an expression of profound, quiet sorrow. "It's 99.99 percent probability. Not that we needed it."
"I never lied to you, Julian," I said softly, looking away toward the rain outside. "Even when you didn't know, I never let anyone else into her life. It was always just us."
"I know," he murmured, his hand coming up to hover near my shoulder before dropping back to his side, respecting the distance I still kept. "I spoke with corporate legal this morning. And I spoke with Eleanor’s personal attorney."
I turned back to him, my breath catching. "What did you do?"
"I initiated formal separation proceedings," Julian said flatly, the weight of the words hanging heavy in the quiet room. "Eleanor brought lawyers into our marriage years ago to protect her assets, but she overlooked the clauses regarding deliberate concealment of household dependents and financial sabotage of estate property. She has thirty days to vacate the north wing."
Before I could process the magnitude of his decision, the heavy oak door swung open without a knock. Eleanor stood on the threshold, her face pale, her eyes wild with a desperation I had never seen in her before. She had clearly been listening at the keyhole.
"You're divorcing me?" Eleanor whispered, her voice cracking as she stepped into the room. "Over a maid and a bastard brat? Julian, you'll destroy everything our families built. The board will tear you apart. The press will have a field day with the scandal."
Julian didn't raise his voice. He didn't even stand up straight. He simply looked at his wife with a cold, terrifying detachment. "The scandal would have been keeping quiet while you terrorized a child in my home. The board answers to me, Eleanor, not your father's ghost. Pack your bags. The driver will take you to the city townhouse tonight."
Eleanor looked at Julian, then her gaze shifted to me, burning with a hatred so pure it felt physical. Finally, she looked down at Valentina, who had stopped coloring and was staring back with wide, unblinking eyes.
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"You think you've won," Eleanor whispered, her voice trembling with venom. "You're nothing more than hired help playing dress-up in a rich man's house. He'll get tired of the charity case by winter."
She turned on her heel, her silk robe swishing against the floorboards as she stormed out, slamming the heavy doors behind her with a crash that rattled the crystal decanter on the sideboard.
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