Chapter 3 - The Return of the Prodigal HusbandAt 9:30 a.m., the hospital door clicked open, and Julian stepped inside carrying a bouquet of expensive white lilies and a look of practiced contrition. He walked over to the bed, assuming the posture of a loving, slightly misunderstood husband who expected a tearful, compliant wife to accept his terms. "Elena," he murmured softly, sitting on the edge of the mattress and reaching out to touch Maya's blanket.
I didn't flinch. I let him talk, watching the subtle arrogance lingering just beneath his smooth exterior. He believed he was managing a minor domestic inconvenience. "A settlement, Julian?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "You made it very clear last night that the Vance name has responsibilities. But you forgot that names work both ways." He frowned, sensing the absence of tears. "What are you talking about?" Before I could answer, the door swung open again, and Arthur and Margaret Vance swept into the room like a pair of visiting royalty, their faces set in identical masks of polished coldness. Margaret took one look at Maya and pressed her lips into a thin, critical line, while Arthur looked at Julian with sharp impatience. "Well, Julian?" Arthur demanded. "Have you sorted this out? We can't have loose ends before the quarterly board meeting next week." I looked at all three of them—the man who tried to throw us away, and the parents who enabled him—and smiled.
