Chapter 2: The First Cut

Isadora's POV

Felt a chill run through my spine the moment Roman came out. "Go upstairs, to my room." Mara's voice was barely above a whisper, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Do not come out. Do not make a sound."

"Mara…."

"Isadora." Her eyes were steady. Fierce. "Just fucking go up."

I nodded and moved. Her bedroom door clicked shut behind me just as the banging started downstairs.

"MARA. OPEN THIS DOOR." Roman yelled, I couldn’t hear his voice downstairs. 

I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. My heart was beating so loudly that I was convinced he could hear it through the walls.

"What do you want, Roman?" Mara's voice floated up, sharp and unlike, as if she wasn't terrified like this was just another Tuesday.

"You know what I want. Let me in."

"This is my private residence. You have no right…"

"I said let me IN…"

"Touch my door one more time and I will have the cops here so fast you won't have time to blink." Her voice didn't waver. Not once. "Try me."

Silence. Then Roman's voice again, lower this time. More dangerous I could feel it.

"Then explain to me what this is."

My stomach dropped.

The chiffon. The piece of my torn dress. I had left it on her sitting room floor and I hadn't even noticed.

I heard Mara's sharp intake of breath.

Her scream cut through the apartment so loud that I felt it in my chest.

Mara…is mara okay. I was on my feet before I could think, yanking the bedroom door open, flying down the stairs and straight into the living room…

Roman. We locked eyes.

For one horrible second neither of us moved. His face was a mask of cold fury, blood still dried at his temple from where the vase had split his skin. His shirt was ruined. His eyes were not.

"There you are." His voice was silk over gravel.

I took one step back. He took one step forward.

Then the sirens. Blue and red light bled through the curtains, flooding the room in flashes. Tires on pavement. Doors slamming. Voices outside, firm and authoritative.

Roman's jaw tightened. The knock on the door was three sharp raps. "Police. Open up."

He looked at me one last time. Something moved behind his eyes, not fear. Never fear with Roman. 

Then the door opened and the officers filled the room and everything became noise and movement and I stood completely still in the middle of it all while they led him out in handcuffs.

The moment the door closed behind them I felt my legs give.

I didn't fall. Mara caught me. "I've got you." She pulled me in tight, one hand cradling the back of my head. "I've got you Dora. He's gone."

The sob that tore out of me didn't sound like me. It was something uglier. Something that had been sitting in my chest for years waiting for one safe moment to escape.

Mara held me the entire time. Didn't shush me. Didn't tell me to calm down. Just held on.

At some point the lights were off and we were on her bed and her hand was drawing slow circles on my back and I was so exhausted I couldn't feel my own face.

"Sleep," she said quietly.

For once I listened.

★★★

The courtroom smelled like polished wood and old ambition…couldn't remember the last time I had been here. I sat straight. Hands folded in my lap. Dressed carefully because Mara had insisted.

The room was full but I only registered pieces. Suits. Faces. The low murmur of people who held power and knew it. Roman sat across the room. Composed. Unbothered. Like a man attending a board meeting rather than answering for what he had done to me.

He didn't look at me when I walked in. He looked at Alice. And Alice looked back.

That exchange… It lasted only a second. Maybe less. But I saw it and something cold and slow moved through my chest.

I told myself I was imagining it. I was good at that.

Roman's lawyer stood. Tall, polished, the kind of man whose suits cost more than my childhood home.

He cleared his throat. "Your honour, my client did not abuse his wife." His voice filled the room effortlessly. "What we have here is a woman who entered this marriage already carrying another man's child."

A pause. Deliberate. Letting it land. "A woman who has consistently disrespected her husband, embarrassed him publicly, and routinely met with male clients under the guise of professional obligation."

My jaw tightened.

"She is not a victim." He let the word sit there like something dirty. "She is a woman who could not keep her vows and is now attempting to punish my client for her own failures."

The room was very quiet. I stared straight ahead. I would not look at Roman. I would not give him that.

Mara's hand found mine under the table and squeezed once, hard.

Then it was our turn. Alice stood. My lawyer. Mara's step sister. The woman we had called at midnight. The woman I had placed every fragile, desperate piece of hope in.

She smoothed her blazer. Opened her folder. Looked up. And then she spoke.

"Your honour, after thorough review of the evidence presented…" Her voice was clear. Professional. Unbothered. "...the accusations made by my client's husband are consistent with the findings."

The world stopped.

"The documentation supports that the child in question is not Mr. Roman's biological son. There is furthermore evidence suggesting my client has had multiple inappropriate relationships with male colleagues…”

“Alice…what are you saying.” Mara's voice resounded in the courtroom.

"...and it is therefore my professional conclusion that the claim of domestic violence lacks sufficient credibility to.."

“Alice.” Mara's hand had gone completely still in mine.

Before anyone could stop mara she was already at the front of Alice…what came next was the resounding slap that echoed in the courtroom.