Chapter 1 - The Fall of the Queen

A week later, Julian returned to the estate. Clara was still in a private, high-security rehabilitation clinic, healing her body and her mind. Julian refused to let her step foot in the mansion until it was cleansed.

He stood in the grand foyer with a sledgehammer in his hands.

Behind him stood a team of contractors, private investigators, and his head of security.

"Tear it down," Julian ordered.

They walked to the East Wing. Julian watched as his men ripped through the heavy drywall and oak doors that had concealed Clara's prison. When they finally broke through to the sub-basement, Julian felt physically sick.

It was a concrete box. A single, bare mattress lay on the floor. There were scratch marks on the heavy steel door. A small, dirty bucket sat in the corner.

This was where his beautiful, vibrant wife had spent four Christmases. Four birthdays. Four anniversaries.

Julian raised the sledgehammer and swung it into the concrete wall with a guttural scream of pure agony. He swung again, and again, until his hands bled and the sledgehammer's handle splintered. He wanted to destroy the house. He wanted to burn it to the ground.

"Mr. Vance," his head of security said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We've removed all her belongings. We have the evidence for the trial. You don't need to be in here."

Julian dropped the hammer, breathing heavily. "Call the real estate agent. Sell the house. Sell everything in it. Donate the money to a domestic abuse charity."