Chapter 4
The sun dipped below the rim of the canyon, casting long, bruised shadows across the modern interior of the house. Inside the kitchen, the recessed lighting hummed softly against the polished quartz countertops. Helen stood at the island, rinsing a ceramic mug under the tap while Julian paced the length of the open-plan living room. His boots clicked rhythmically against the hardwood floor. Neither of them had spoken for an hour, the physical labor of cleaning up the soot and securing the charred backyard having drained their remaining reserves of adrenaline. The smell of burnt rubber and chlorine still clung faintly to their clothes, a persistent reminder of the afternoon's violence.
"We have to call Martha," Helen said, her back to him. She didn't turn around as she heard his pacing stop abruptly. "She deserves to know that her medical fund was used to pay off your construction debts in Nevada. She thinks you're a savior, Julian. She praises you every time she takes her pills." Julian didn't answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, strained with a defensive edge that felt uncomfortably thin. "If Martha finds out, her stress levels will spike. Her cardiologist said her ticker can't handle another shock like that. You want to protect her, but telling her now is essentially writing her a death sentence."
Helen turned around, leaning back against the counter, her eyes narrowing as she studied her husband of thirty years. "Don't you dare use Martha as a shield, Julian. You used her money to bail out your failing grading contracts because you were too proud to admit to your partners that you overextended the firm." She pushed off the counter and walked slowly toward him, stopping just out of arm's reach. "You built this house on glass foundations, and now the tide is coming in. I am not going down for your corporate fraud. If the auditors find my name on those Cayman accounts tomorrow, I will hand them the rest of the files myself."
