Chapter 22 The Gray Manor #2
Clara snapped out of her shock. Her face twisted with rage as she rushed across the room, snatching the stick off the floor in one quick, furious motion before turning back toward Juliet.
She gripped it tightly as she marched forward, her breath uneven and ragged. When she stopped in front of Juliet, she raised it, pointing it at her with a trembling hand, her eyes wide and unsteady with fury as if she was barely holding herself together.
“I’ve spoiled you too much, haven’t I?” she shouted as her chest rose and fell rapidly, anger clouding every trace of restraint she once had. “Now you’re even daring to fight back?”
Before Clara could swing, Juliet stepped forward and snatched the stick from her hand once more, the motion so sudden and controlled that Clara staggered slightly from the loss of balance.
Alexa’s eyes widened in fear from the couch.
And before anyone could react, Juliet turned.
The stick came down.
A sharp cry escaped Alexa as the first strike landed, her body recoiling instantly as she tried to curl away, but Juliet didn’t stop there.
The next strike followed almost immediately, then another, each one landing with controlled force as if every blow Clara had ever given her was now being returned without hesitation.
Alexa scrambled back against the couch, tears streaming down her face as she tried to shield herself, her sobs breaking into panicked pleas as she pressed herself into the corner.
“Mom!” she cried helplessly. “Mom, make her stop!”
Clara let out a strangled scream and rushed forward in panic. “Juliet! Stop this!”
She reached for the stick, but Juliet shoved her away without even turning to look at her, the movement firm enough to send Clara stumbling back several steps as she nearly lost her footing.
Only when her arm began to ache did Juliet finally stop.
The room fell into a heavy silence broken only by Alexa’s sobs and Clara’s uneven breathing.
Juliet lowered the stick slowly, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm now as she turned to face Clara. Whatever warmth had once existed in her eyes was gone completely, replaced by something empty and cold, something that no longer recognized the people in front of her.
Her gaze locked onto Clara’s.
A strange chill seemed to settle over the room, as if even the air had gone still.
“I always thought you were my family.”
A faint, bitter laugh slipped from Juliet’s lips as she slowly shook her head, her expression carrying a quiet disbelief that came from years of misplaced trust.
“But now I know the truth. You never loved me.”
Clara’s face drained of color as Juliet took a slow step forward, her voice calm but edged with something unshakable, something that had finally snapped into place.
“Everything was always about what I could do for you,” she continued evenly. “The deals I brought in. The connections I made. The money and benefits I gave this family.”
A faint curl touched her lips, not warmth.
“You never cared about me.”
She held Clara’s gaze without blinking, as if she were looking at a stranger standing in front of her now, not someone who was supposed to be family.
“You only cared about what I could give you.”
Clara stiffened as though every muscle in her body had been locked in place at once.
For a brief moment, she could only stare at Juliet in disbelief, as if she were seeing someone unfamiliar standing in front of her.
This was still the same girl who had once endured everything in silence, who had never once fought back.
Yet now, Juliet’s gaze was different—sharp, burning, as if it could strip away every lie Clara had ever hidden behind. That realization made Clara instinctively part her lips to defend herself, though the words never truly formed.
But Juliet didn’t give her the space to recover.
Her breathing turned uneven with fury as she stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
Her eyes didn’t waver for even a second, locked onto Clara with a cold intensity that made the air feel heavier.
Her fingers curled tightly at her sides, trembling slightly from the force of everything she had been holding back, the faint marks of earlier pain still visible on her arm.
When she finally spoke, her voice was laced with something dangerously sharp.
“You have no right to hit me. You’re not my family.”
Her chest rose and fell more quickly now, emotion breaking through the restraint she had always forced on herself.
“You can all die in a ditch for all I care. And from this moment on—if any of you ever dare to contact me again for anything in your damn life, I will make sure your existence turns into a living hell.”
Before Clara could even gather a response, Juliet’s hand lifted sharply.
She seized the stick and flung it back with force.
It cut through the air and struck near Clara’s face, making her recoil instantly.
Clara stumbled back, eyes wide, her expression frozen in shock as if the person standing before her was no longer someone she recognized at all.
Silence swallowed the room for a brief, suffocating moment.
Juliet didn’t wait for it to break. Her jaw tightened, still trembling with restrained rage, and she turned sharply on her heel.
Without sparing a single glance at Clara or Alexa, she stormed out of the house.
Her footsteps were fast and heavy, each one echoing the weight of everything she had just ripped out of herself.
The door slammed shut behind her with a sharp, echoing bang.
Outside, the air hit her face, but she didn’t slow down. Her expression remained taut, anger still simmering beneath her skin as she forced herself to breathe evenly. She had barely taken a few steps when her gaze caught movement near the gate.
A black car had just come to a stop.
The door opened.
Vincent stepped out.
For a fraction of a second, both of them froze in place.
His eyes locked onto hers immediately, widening just slightly in surprise before recognition settled in.
Then his expression hardened almost at once—his jaw tightening, a visible tension pulling through his face as something unspoken passed between them.
The air between them shifted, thickening, charged, as though the moment itself had snapped taut.
Vincent started walking toward her.
Juliet didn’t stop. Instead, she shifted slightly aside, attempting to pass him without engagement, her steps quickening as if avoiding him could dissolve the situation entirely.
But Vincent moved before she could slip past.
In a sudden, decisive motion, he stepped directly into her path, bent slightly, and before she could react, lifted her cleanly onto his shoulder.
Juliet let out a sharp gasp, shock jolting through her as her hands instinctively struck his back. “What the hell are you doing?!” she snapped, her voice rising as she struggled against his hold.
Vincent didn’t answer.
He turned with steady control and carried her back toward the car as though her protests didn’t matter at all. The door was opened, and in one firm motion he placed her inside before shutting it immediately after, cutting off her escape.
Juliet reached for the handle at once, fingers tightening as she tried to force it open, but it didn’t move. Locked.
Her breath hitched sharply in frustration as she twisted toward him just in time to see him slide into the driver’s seat.
The engine roared to life a second later.
At the sound, Alexa rushed out of the house, her voice breaking through the tense air. “Vincent!”
But he didn’t look back. The car reversed smoothly, then shot forward, pulling away from the house without hesitation.
Inside the moving car, Juliet turned sharply toward him, anger flaring back to life. “What the hell are you doing? Where are you taking me?”
Vincent still didn’t respond.
His grip remained tight on the steering wheel, knuckles slightly tense, jaw clenched so firmly it looked as though he was holding something back with sheer force.
His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, refusing to acknowledge her, and that silence only deepened the pressure inside the car until it felt almost suffocating.
Minutes later, the car came to a sudden stop in front of a large house.
Before the engine fully died, Vincent was already out. He moved around quickly, opened her door, and waited as she stepped out.
The moment Juliet tried to walk past him, he shifted again, blocking her path without a word.
His hand shot out and closed around her wrist.
“Let go of me,” she snapped instantly, pulling back with force—but his grip only tightened as he pulled her forward, dragging her along without a single explanation.
She struggled and tried to pull her hand free, but Vincent's grip remained firm around her wrist, his fingers locked around her as though letting go wasn't even an option.
Without giving her a chance to escape, he dragged her toward the luxury house.
Juliet stumbled after him, irritation rising with every step.
She dug her heels into the ground several times and twisted her wrist in an attempt to break free, but Vincent didn't so much as loosen his hold.
As soon as they entered the house, Juliet's steps faltered.
The living room wasn't empty.