Chapter 2: The Watchful Eye
Clara was never truly alone. If Julian wasn’t breathing down her neck, analyzing her every word and monitoring her phone calls, his mother, Eleanor, was there. Eleanor was a woman carved from ice, draped in dark silk and pearls, who viewed Clara not as a daughter-in-law, but as a temporary vessel for the Vance bloodline.
Eleanor practically lived in the penthouse, drifting through the halls with a glass of vintage Pinot Noir perpetually in hand. She watched Clara’s every misstep, reporting back to Julian with cold, calculated glee. Clara had learned to keep her eyes down and her voice soft, but even submission was no longer enough to quell Julian’s erratic, violent temper
