The heavy double doors of the estate burst open, slamming against the interior walls.
Evelyn stumbled into the foyer. Her pristine prep school uniform was a crumpled, dirty mess. Her hair clung to her sweaty forehead, and black eyeliner ran down her cheeks in dark, jagged rivers.
She looked wildly around the room until her eyes locked onto Julianna, who was sitting on the living room sofa, casually flipping through an architectural magazine.
Evelyn let out a gut-wrenching wail. She practically threw herself across the room, dropping to her knees on the Persian rug.
She lunged forward and wrapped both arms tightly around Julianna's calves, burying her tear-stained face into the fabric of Julianna's designer trousers.
"Julianna! Thank god you're home!" Evelyn sobbed, her voice muffled against the fabric. "I'm so scared!"
Julianna's face contorted in immediate, visceral disgust. She dropped the magazine onto the glass coffee table with a loud slap.
She did not reach down to pat Evelyn's head. She sat perfectly still, looking down at the girl like she was a diseased rat that had crawled out of the sewer.
Evelyn felt the lack of movement. Panic flared in her chest. She lifted her head, tears streaming down her face, and immediately launched into her script.
"I broke up with Dante," Evelyn choked out, her voice trembling perfectly. "I swear I did. I'll never see him again."
She paused, sucking in a ragged breath, preparing to pivot to her real target.
"But Mom..." Evelyn whispered, her voice dropping into a terrified register. "Mom looked at me with such hatred last night. She said if I didn't get out of her sight, she would make sure I'd never see a penny of the trust fund and would end up on the streets. She said it with such quiet, terrifying hatred, Julianna, I was terrified. It felt like she wanted me dead."
Evelyn reached up and deliberately pulled back the left sleeve of her uniform blouse.
She exposed her wrist. A ring of dark, purple-and-yellow bruises encircled her pale skin.
Evelyn flinched violently, as if the memory was too much to bear. "And when I tried to walk past her, she completely snapped. She grabbed me and shoved me toward the door. If I didn't leave... I was afraid she was going to lose control and hurt me worse. I'm just an orphan, Julianna. I have no one else but you guys."
Up on the second-floor landing, Christa stood holding a glass of water. She looked down through the wrought-iron railing, watching the performance with a cold, dead smile. She didn't make a sound.
Down in the living room, the silence stretched. Evelyn kept her eyes wide and pleading, waiting for Julianna to explode with righteous anger at their mother.
Instead, Julianna let out a soft, breathy laugh.
The sound was completely devoid of humor. It was ice-cold.
Julianna violently jerked her leg backward.
Evelyn's grip slipped. She lost her balance and pitched forward, her hands slapping hard against the rug to stop her face from hitting the floor.
Julianna stood up. She did not reach for a wipe or make a theatrical scene. Instead, her eyes slowly dragged over the wrinkled, tear-stained fabric of her trousers where Evelyn's face and hands had touched. Her upper lip curled in a look of profound, unadulterated revulsion. She turned her head slightly toward the hallway.
"Maura," Julianna called out, her voice slicing through the air like a razor blade. "Please have these trousers sent for dry cleaning immediately. They've been contaminated."
Evelyn's mouth opened, but her brain short-circuited.
Julianna crossed her arms over her chest and stared down her nose at the girl on the floor.
"Are you done auditioning?" Julianna asked, her voice slicing through the air like a razor blade. "Or did your IQ melt into the gutter along with your eyeliner?"
