Chapter 6 - The Cabin in the Pines
Julian froze beside the car door, his arm shooting out instinctively to block Clara and the baby from moving forward. The wet wind rustled the pine needles above them, carrying the faint, unmistakable smell of pipe tobacco—a scent Julian hadn't encountered since the passing of his grandfather, Thomas Sterling, three years ago.
"Stay here in the car with Leo," Julian whispered, his voice tense as he scanned the darkened perimeter of the rustic cabin.
Clara gripped his sleeve, her eyes wide with anxiety. "Julian, no. It could be one of your mother’s fixers. We should drive back down to the main road."
"If it was one of Eleanor’s men, they wouldn't be sitting quietly with a pipe," Julian reasoned, though his heart hammered against his ribs. "My grandfather used to smoke cherry-blend tobacco. Nobody else in the family ever touched the stuff."
Before Clara could argue further, Julian opened the trunk of the sedan, pulling out a heavy iron tire iron to use as an improvised defense. He crept silently across the wooden porch, stepping carefully to avoid the loose floorboards that always creaked underfoot. The orange glow from the window pulsed steadily, casting long, dancing shadows across the overgrown ferns framing the front steps.
With a quick, decisive shove, Julian pushed the front door wide open and stepped inside, raising the iron bar.
"Don't move, whoever you are," Julian demanded, his voice echoing off the exposed pine rafters of the cabin’s main room.
The figure sitting in the worn leather rocking chair by the stone fireplace turned slowly. The amber light from the hearth illuminated a face lined with deep wrinkles, framed by a shock of familiar white hair and sharp, knowing eyes that mirrored Julian’s own.
It was Arthur Vance, Marcus’s estranged older brother and the former chief archivist of Sterling Enterprises, who had supposedly vanished during a corporate audit five years ago.
Julian lowered the tire iron slowly, his jaw dropping in sheer disbelief. "Arthur? Everyone in the family thought you were dead. Mother said you skipped the country with embezzled funds."
Arthur took a slow puff from his wooden pipe, letting a cloud of sweet cherry smoke drift toward the vaulted ceiling before he spoke.
"Your mother is very good at writing fiction, Julian," Arthur said, his voice raspy with age and exhaustion. "She didn't banish me because of embezzlement; she banished me because I found the original ledger proving she altered your grandfather's true last will and testament on her deathbed."
Clara, who had quietly slipped into the cabin behind Julian with the sleeping baby, gasped softly and leaned against the doorframe for support.
"Then the documents Richard had tonight..." Clara started, stepping further into the warm glow of the fire.
May you like
"Were entirely fabricated to cover up the original theft," Arthur finished, pointing a weathered finger at a locked steel briefcase resting on the wooden table beside him. "And inside this case is the only thing that can legally destroy Eleanor’s empire once and for all."
---
