Julian dropped to one knee right beside the dirty yellow bucket.
He gently reached out his hand to touch her trembling shoulder.
The young woman pulled away instantly out of pure habit.
She lifted her pale face into the warm streaming sunlight slowly.
Her soft cheekbones were marked with clear cuts and bruises.
Tears carved clean trails through the dust on her tired cheeks.
This was the brilliant young woman he had married last year.
Elena was an artist with a bright laugh and soft eyes.
Now she looked like a prisoner who had lost all hope.
Elena: Julian... you came back for me.
Julian: Who did this to you, Elena?
Elena: They told me you were never coming back home.
Julian felt a wave of pure dark anger sweep over him.
He had sent letters and money every single week from abroad.
He had tried to call her phone every night without success.
His stepmother Vivian had answered every single call he made.
Vivian had claimed that Elena was resting or out shopping daily.
The sound of heavy click heels cut through the quiet room.
Vivian walked down the grand winding staircase with a smile.
She wore a rich burgundy velvet dress that touched the stone.
She held a glass of dark red wine in her hand.
Vivian: She was here all along, Julian.
Julian: You made my wife scrub our floors?
Vivian: She signed a contract to earn her keep here.
Julian stood up slowly as his jaw set tight in fury.
He looked at his stepmother standing proudly on the steps.