Chapter 2

Vicky laughed, a harsh, ugly sound.

"His sister? You expect me to believe that? Look at you."

One of Vicky's friends simpered, "She looks younger than you, Vicky. Much younger."

The words were like fuel on a fire.

"He wouldn't bring his sister to a place like this, keep it a secret from his own wife," Vicky sneered. "You're a liar. A homewrecker. Trying to take my husband, my life."

"That is not true," Elara stated, her calm unwavering. "I am here because you are unwell. Julian believes I can help."

Vicky stepped forward, her face contorted.

"Help me? You're the one who needs to be taught a lesson."

Her hand came up, fast.

The slap echoed in the large room. Elara' s head snapped back, her cheek stinging.

She did not raise a hand. She simply looked at Vicky.

At that moment, Lena, young and barely out of her teens, arrived, carrying a carefully wrapped bundle. She saw the scene, Vicky' s raised hand, Elara' s red cheek.

"Leave her alone!" Lena cried, rushing forward.

Big Tony moved with surprising speed for his size. He shoved Lena hard.

The girl stumbled, hitting her head against the sharp corner of a heavy oak table. She crumpled to the floor, silent.

"Lena!" Elara cried out, moving towards her apprentice.

Vicky blocked her path.

"Forget the girl. It's your turn." She gestured to her entourage. "Teach this lying whore what happens when she messes with me."

The socialite friends giggled, a sickening sound. Big Tony and Ace cracked their knuckles.

Elara stood her ground. "This is a mistake, Victoria. A terrible mistake."

"The only mistake was Julian thinking he could hide you from me," Vicky screamed.

Then the assault began.

Hands grabbed Elara, rough, bruising. Fists rained down.

Her simple tribal garments, woven with prayers, were ripped from her body.

She felt a searing pain in her side as a kick landed.

Through the haze of pain, she saw Vicky directing them, her eyes glittering with triumph.

"Trash the place!" Vicky shrieked. "I want nothing left of this... this love nest!"

The men, and even some of the women, turned their attention to the Heritage Wing.

Antique vases shattered. Furniture was overturned, splintered.

Elara watched in horror as they reached the corner Julian had prepared for her.

Her healing tools, carefully crafted from wood and stone, were stomped into pieces.

Her sacred herbs, gathered with reverence, were scattered and crushed underfoot.

The irreplaceable tribal artifacts, passed down through generations, the conduits of her spiritual connection, were smashed against the walls, thrown to the floor, desecrated.

A medicine bundle, containing objects of immense power and significance to her tribe, was torn open, its contents scattered like refuse.