Chapter 4
The second latch fell open with a heavy, echoing thunk that felt like a gavel striking a judge's bench. The cathedral remained entirely frozen, the guests holding their breath, reluctant to witness the horror yet utterly unable to look away. Richard slumped against the pew, his grey suit jacket damp with cold sweat, his fingers clawing uselessly at the dark wood of the bench as if seeking anchorage in a rising tide.
Julianna placed her hands on the heavy lid of the steamer trunk. Despite her exhaustion, a surge of adrenaline gave her sudden, surprising strength. With a steady pull, she heaved the lid upward. It swung back on well-oiled hinges, revealing the dark, dense interior packed tightly not with heirlooms or stolen cash, but with layers of old ledgers, waterlogged personal effects, and a stack of framed photographs facing downward.
The scent of damp earth, old paper, and salt water billowed out into the pristine air of the church, instantly fouling the sweet smell of the scattered white flowers.
Julianna reached inside, her gloved fingers brushing against the edge of a soaked, heavy leather-bound journal. She pulled it out and held it up. The embossed gold lettering on the cover was worn, but still legible. It bore the initials V.M.
Richard let out a low, animalistic whimper, burying his face in his hands. "Where did you find that? That was destroyed. It went down with the yacht."
"Nothing truly goes down, Richard," the silver-pinned man answered smoothly, stepping forward to stand beside Julianna. He reached into the trunk and lifted a heavy silver signet ring, holding it up to the light. The crest engraved upon the metal caught the golden rays of the stained glass, flashing a brilliant, accusing glare directly into Richard’s eyes. "Victor Vance didn't drown in a tragic boating accident off the coast of Maine. His yacht didn't suffer a sudden mechanical failure. You disabled the navigation systems forty-eight hours after he threatened to expose your embezzlement scheme at Vance Industries."
A collective murmur rippled through the pews. Several guests stood up abruptly, whispering among themselves, while others hastily picked up their phones again, frantically typing messages to news outlets and business partners. The illusion of Richard's untouchable empire was dissolving in real time.
Julianna stared at the signet ring, the cold truth finally settling deep into her bones. Victor Vance had been her uncle, the man who raised her after her parents died, the man who had supposedly vanished without a trace right before she met Richard at a charity gala. Richard had swooped in with his shoulder to cry on, his endless financial support, and a wedding ring that felt increasingly like a shackle.
"You killed him," Julianna said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper. She turned her head slowly to look at the man she had promised to love and honor only an hour ago. "You murdered the only family I had left, and then you proposed to me over his grave."
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Richard dropped his hands from his face, revealing a visage utterly devoid of color. His arrogance was entirely gone, replaced by the cornered panic of a desperate animal. "I had no choice, Julianna! He was going to ruin everything! I built this company, not him! I gave you the life you wanted!"
"You gave me a cage built on bones," Julianna replied, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer to him.
