Marcus Vance stepped through the massive front doors of his family estate in Dallas.
The air inside the grand foyer felt cold despite the humid Texas summer heat outside.
He dropped his leather briefcase near the entrance with a heavy sigh.
His mother had summoned him back home for an urgent meeting regarding the family estate.
Marcus had spent two painful years searching for his missing wife, Sarah Vance.
She had vanished without a trace shortly after their quiet autumn wedding ceremony.
The police had eventually closed the case after finding zero reliable leads.
Marcus never stopped searching, but his mother always urged him to move on.
He walked across the spotless white floor toward the grand spiral staircase.
A young maid was kneeling near the base of the stairs with a grey cloth.
She was wiping down the polished marble floor with slow, trembling hands.
Marcus stopped in his tracks as a quiet sob echoed through the silent room.
Marcus: Are you alright?
The maid did not lift her head to face him directly.
Her shoulders shook beneath her plain, faded grey uniform fabric.
Clara: I'm sorry, sir...
Marcus frowned as he noticed her trembling hands pressing against the cold tile.
He stepped closer, his polished dress shoes clicking firmly against the marble.
The young woman pulled her collar up as if trying to hide her face.
Marcus caught a glimpse of red-rimmed eyes and a deep bruise along her cheek.
Marcus: Please look at me.
She kept her face turned away toward the dark wooden baseboard paneling.
Clara: I am just finishing my chores for the evening, Mr. Vance.
Something about the sound of her voice made Marcus freeze in absolute shock.
It was a tone he had not heard in two long, agonizing years.
He reached down slowly, his heart hammering violently inside his chest.
Marcus: Sarah?
The maid gasped softly and pulled back, her eyes wide with total terror.
Marcus dropped to his knees right beside her on the cold marble floor.
He reached out and gently touched her arm, feeling her body shaking uncontrollably.
Marcus: Sarah, is that really you?
She looked directly into his eyes for the first time in years.
Tears streamed down her pale skin, leaving visible tracks through her light freckles.
Clara: You were never supposed to come back today, Marcus.
Marcus: What happened to your face?
Clara: She told me you forgot all about me, Marcus.
Marcus felt a sharp wave of fury washing straight through his entire body.
He pulled her up from the floor, holding her tightly in his arms.
Marcus: Who did this to you?
A sharp, graceful step sounded from the top of the marble staircase.
Helena Vance stood above them, wrapped in a dark purple velvet cape gown.
She held a crystal glass of red wine between her long, manicured fingers.