39. Fractures Behind the Marble Walls

The crystal glass slipped slightly in Judith’s fingers.

Her heartbeat, already unsteady, thundered against her ribs as the maid’s voice echoed through the room like a war drum.

“Mr. Radford is home!!”

Martha’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t move. She didn’t dare. Judith’s spine had straightened like a hunting dog’s, the predatory gleam back in her eyes, sharp and ravenous.

Rex Radford.

The man who turned her into “Mrs.”—but not into “wife.” A name without the weight of love. A house without the warmth of belonging.

Judith didn’t speak for a moment. She stood frozen, glass still in hand, its rim trembling near her lips, though she no longer drank from it. Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding—memories, accusations, fragments of arguments never voiced, and the image of Annie Yin’s children. Her husband’s children.

Not hers.

Children born from a love she had tried so hard to erase.

“Where is he?” Judith asked, her voice low and bitter like burnt coffee.

“In the driveway,