Chapter 4: The Old Logging Road**
The windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the torrents of rain as Elena’s truck rattled up the winding mountain pass. Clara sat in the passenger seat, gripping the dashboard, navigating by the flashes of lightning that illuminated the jagged pine trees.
"Julian wasn't always this way," Clara murmured, staring out into the dark. "When his mother died, his father taught him only one lesson: everything you love is a liability until you control its price tag."
"That explains him," Elena replied, downshifting as the tires slipped on the muddy gravel. "It doesn't excuse him."
Up ahead, through the thick curtain of fog, the iron gates of the Blackwood Estate appeared. They hung slightly ajar, fresh tire tracks churning the mud beneath them.
Elena killed the headlights, coasting the truck onto the shoulder beneath the overhanging canopy of hemlocks.
"Stay in the truck, Clara," Elena ordered, reaching behind the driver’s seat and pulling out a heavy iron tire iron.
"Elena," Clara called softly, her voice steadying. "Marcus has served our family for forty years. He’s weary. Speak to his conscience before you face Julian's greed."
Elena nodded once, zipped her jacket against the biting cold, and slipped out into the storm.
May you like
The estate looked like a skeletal monument to old wealth. Three stories of decaying stone, shuttered windows, and a wraparound porch where dead leaves clung to rotting floorboards. On the gravel driveway sat Julian’s idling sedan, its taillights glowing like red embers in the dark.
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