Chapter 13
The heavy iron fireplace poker gleamed dully in the amber light pouring through the attic's stained-glass windows.
Julian limped forward, his breath coming in ragged, wheezing gasps as water dripped from his soaked, ruined suit jacket onto the dusty floorboards.
“Julian, you’re insane,” Clara said, backing away until the edge of the mahogany grandfather clock pressed hard against her lower back. “The police are downstairs. The house is on fire.”
Julian let out a harsh, broken laugh that echoed off the vaulted ceiling of the Victorian attic.
“The police are busy trying to evacuate a sinking ship, Clara,” Julian said, taking another slow step forward, dragging the iron poker across the floorboards with a screeching sound of metal on wood. “And my mother is currently explaining to federal investigators why her offshore accounts are sitting in a federal holding tank.”
Across the room, sitting safely on the velvet settee, little Lily pulled her knees up to her chest and whimpered, burying her face in her hands.
“Don't look at him, Lily! Keep your eyes on me!” Clara shouted, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Julian’s eyes darted toward the child for a fraction of a second, a flicker of genuine remorse crossing his soot-stained face before his expression hardened back into cold, desperate resolve.
“She isn't even my child,” Julian muttered, his voice dropping into a bitter, broken whisper. “Sarah stole her from a clinic in Zurich, and I covered it up because I wanted my mother’s approval.”
Julian raised the iron poker, lifting it to shoulder height as he closed the remaining distance between them.
“And now you’re going to hand over that ledger, Clara, or we are all going to burn down together in this godforsaken house.”
Clara looked down at the heavy iron lockbox sitting in the open compartment of the grandfather clock.
Inside that box were the keys to every offshore account, every adoption paper, and every medical file that could bring down the entire Sterling syndicate once and for all.
She couldn't hand it over. If Julian destroyed those documents, her brother Thomas would rot in a federal cell forever, and Lily would be swallowed up by the system.
Clara gripped the heavy manila ledger tighter against her chest, her mind racing for an escape route through the smoke-filled attic.
“You’ll never make it out of here with the files, Julian,” Clara said, her voice steadying despite the terror gripping her throat. “The stairs are already engulfed in flames.”
Julian smiled, a terrifying, manic grin that twisted his features beyond recognition.
“Then it’s a good thing I know the secret exit,” Julian whispered, lunging forward with the iron poker raised high above his head.
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Before the heavy metal could strike, a loud crash echoed from the stairwell as the attic door was kicked completely off its hinges.
A figure in a smoke-stained trench coat burst through the smoke, tackling Julian sideways just as the poker came swinging down.
