Chapter 11: The Journey Westward
Two weeks later, Julian stood at the edge of a dense, fog-shrouded pine forest in coastal Oregon, the damp Pacific air chilling him to the bone. He wore a heavy wool jacket over his sweater, a far cry from the tailored black tuxedos of his corporate life in Manhattan. Beside him stood Leo, bundled in a red parka, holding tightly to his father’s gloved hand as they walked along a narrow dirt trail toward a small, weathered wooden cabin nestled beneath the towering evergreens.
The journey had taken three days of flights, rental cars, and winding mountain roads. Marcus, his lead attorney, had successfully tracked Vincent down through old medical registries and forestry service employment records.
Julian took a deep breath of the pine-scented air, squeezing Leo’s hand for reassurance. They stepped up onto the wooden porch of the cabin and knocked softly on the heavy oak door. The sound echoed hollowly against the forest backdrop.
After a long pause, the heavy bolt inside clicked, and the door swung open. A man in his late thirties with rugged features, a thick brown beard, and eyes that mirrored the haunted sadness in Leo’s stood in the doorway. He wore a faded flannel shirt and held a cup of black coffee in his hand, staring warily at the strangers standing on his porch.
"Can I help you?" Vincent asked, his voice gravelly and deeply guarded, his eyes darting immediately to the expensive rental car parked down the dirt driveway.
"Vincent?" Julian asked quietly, stepping forward just enough to show he carried no threat. "My name is Julian Vance. I am Eleanor’s husband—or rather, her estranged husband."
The man’s posture instantly stiffened like a coiled spring. The coffee cup in his hand trembled slightly, dark liquid sloshing over the rim. A cold, bitter light flashed in his eyes.
"She sent you?" Vincent sneered, his voice dripping with old venom. "What could she possibly want with me after all these years? Has she run out of victims in New York and decided to come looking for the one who got away?"
"She didn't send me, Vincent," Julian said earnestly, holding up his empty hands. "She was arrested two weeks ago for grand larceny and felony child abuse. She tried to do to my son what she did to you."
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Vincent stared at Julian, the guarded hostility in his expression slowly giving way to a profound, hollow shock. He looked past Julian’s shoulder down at the young boy standing quietly in the red parka. Leo met the man's gaze with steady, solemn eyes, holding up his arm where the faint pink scar of the healed scratch peeked out from beneath his sleeve.
"She's gone, Vincent," Julian whispered. "The courts have her. She will never hurt anyone in our family ever again. I came here because I wanted to look you in the eye, apologize for every lie she told me about you, and tell you that you were right all along."
