Chapter 6 - The Confession In The Dirt
The damp chill of the cellar seemed to press against Julian’s ribs like a physical weight. He stared at the patch of disturbed earth, then back at Clara, whose face was cast in harsh relief by the flickering overhead bulb.
"David didn't run away to South America," Julian said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth as the pieces finally clicked together in his mind. "The letters he supposedly sent me... you wrote them, didn't you?"
Clara lowered the crowbar slightly, her expression hardening into a bitter smirk. "He was weak, Julian. Your brother always lacked the stomach for the family business. When he found out what your father had set up in the trust—how the money was tied directly to a legitimate heir—he panicked. He tried to leave with the baby."
"And you stopped him?" Julian’s voice dropped to a terrifyingly quiet whisper, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides.
"I protected what was ours," Clara snapped, taking a defensive step back toward the rusted iron door of the cold storage room. "You were too blind to see it. If David had walked out of here with that infant, we would have been penniless. Your father's will was ironclad: no legitimate bloodline on the property, and the estate reverts to the state."
Julian took a heavy step toward her, his dark eyes flashing with a fury that had been suppressed for years. "So you killed him? Or did you just watch while he disappeared into the woods?"
"I didn't have to touch him," Clara laughed, a harsh, grating sound that bounced off the stone walls. "He did it to himself when he drove off that ridge on Route 9. But the baby... the baby survived. And I raised him under my roof, fed him, kept him safe from the vultures, while you played the grieving brother."
"You tormented him!" Julian roared, lunging forward with a sudden burst of speed.
Clara swung the crowbar in a desperate arc, the heavy iron missing Julian’s shoulder by inches as it struck the brick pillar with a loud, metallic clang that sent sparks flying into the dim air.
Julian grabbed the end of the crowbar, wrenching it out of her grip with brutal efficiency and casting it aside into the darkness. He backed her up against the rusted cold storage door, his hands gripping her shoulders.
"Where is the real adoption paperwork, Clara? The ones that prove Leo is David's son?" Julian demanded, his face inches from hers.
May you like
Clara smiled, coughing slightly as the dust settled around them. "You're too late, Julian. I mailed the originals to the district attorney an hour ago. By morning, the police will be tearing this house apart."
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