Chapter 8: Dawn of Doubt
The morning sun filtered through the blinds of the guest bedroom, casting long, pale stripes across the unfamiliar sheets where Julian had spent the remainder of the night. He hadn't slept a wink. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of Michael standing on the porch played on a relentless loop in his mind, juxtaposed with memories of teaching Maya how to ride a bike and reading her bedtime stories.
Julian sat up, rubbed his tired eyes, and looked at his reflection in the dresser mirror. He looked older, worn down by hours of agonizing introspection. He knew he couldn't hide in the guest room forever. Downstairs, the house was quiet, but the lingering tension of the previous night hung in the air like smoke.
He walked down the stairs, bracing himself for another confrontation with Elena. To his surprise, the kitchen was empty. A pot of coffee was brewing on the counter, its rich aroma filling the room, and a single handwritten note sat on the marble island. Julian picked it up. I went to take Maya to school. We need to talk when you're ready. - E.
Julian let out a long, ragged breath. At least she had the sense to get Maya out of the house before the storm truly broke. He poured himself a cup of black coffee, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic mug to chase away the chill in his bones. As he stood there looking out at the sunlit backyard, his gaze fell back to the small white business card Michael had left on the console table the night before.
He walked into the foyer, picked up the card, and read the phone number printed beneath the name Michael Cole: Private Investigations & Legal Consulting.
Julian stared at the digits for a long moment. Part of him wanted to throw the card in the trash, pretend the entire incident was a bad dream, and continue living the lie. But he knew he couldn't. The doubt had already taken root, twisting through his mind and poisoning every sweet memory he shared with Maya. He pulled out his smartphone, punched in the number, and pressed it to his ear.
It rang twice before a deep, gravelly voice answered on the other end. "Cole here."
"It's Julian," Julian said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "We need to talk. Today. Name the place."
May you like
"There's a diner on Fourth Street called the Copper Kettle," Michael replied without hesitation. "Corner booth in the back. Twelve noon. Come alone."
The line went dead with a click. Julian lowered the phone, his heart hammering against his ribs. The path ahead was dark and full of jagged rocks, but he was finally ready to see where it led.
