Veronica straightened immediately, smoothing the fabric of her green satin robe with practiced composure, her expression carefully arranged into righteous indignation despite the underlying tension Marcus could sense radiating from her. "Thank goodness you're home," she said quickly, her voice carrying deliberate, calculated urgency.
"She went into our bedroom and took something," Veronica continued, pointing an accusatory finger down toward the young woman still crumpled on the marble floor, her voice sharp with practiced conviction. Marcus studied his wife carefully, something about her explanation feeling increasingly rehearsed rather than genuinely alarmed.
The young woman remained on the floor, her body trembling with quiet, overwhelming sobs, though she made no attempt to defend herself verbally against Veronica's accusation. Marcus's confusion deepened further, uncertain why someone genuinely guilty of theft would remain so passively silent rather than attempting some kind of denial or explanation.
"Who is she?" Marcus asked, his voice carrying genuine bewilderment as he studied the crying stranger more closely, searching for some explanation for her presence within his own home.
Veronica hesitated only briefly before responding. "I have no idea," she said dismissively, "some stranger who clearly wandered in uninvited." Her explanation carried a note of forced casualness that struck Marcus as increasingly, inexplicably suspicious given the circumstances.