Chapter 25
The morning sun cast long, skeletal shadows across the wet stone driveway of the Blackwood estate as my car pulled up to the front steps. The estate looked bleak and towering under the autumn sky, its tall slate roofs and dark chimneys standing like iron sentinels against the gray clouds.
I walked up the granite steps alone. Sterling had stayed behind in Rockport with two private guards to protect Eleanor and Maya, while I returned to the house to face Julian directly.
The front door was unlocked. I pushed it open, stepping into the grand marble foyer. The high-pitched alarm that had roared through the house two nights ago was silent now. The shattered glass from the second-floor nursery window had been swept away, replaced by a fresh pane of clear glass.
Sitting in a high-backed leather armchair near the unlit stone fireplace was Julian. He was dressed in a pristine charcoal wool suit, a white silk shirt, and a dark blue tie. On the small mahogany tea table beside him rested a small, tarnished silver music box decorated with intricate engravings of blooming roses.
"You came alone," Julian said smoothly, setting his gold fountain pen down on a legal pad resting on his knee. He didn't stand up. He looked at me with those cold, dark eyes that held no warmth, no regret, and no fear.
"Where is Marcus Croft?" I asked, keeping my hands buried in my coat pockets, my fingers wrapped tightly around a secondary digital recording device Sterling had given me.
"I sent Marcus back to the city," Julian said, reaching out to gently touch the silver lid of the music box with his index finger. "Lawyers are useful for managing public perception, Clara. But this is a private family matter. It always has been."
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"You belong in a state prison, Julian," I said, taking three slow steps across the marble floor until I stood ten feet from his chair. "You used our father's name, his money, and his legacy to torture our sister."
Julian let out a short, hollow laugh—a quiet sound that echoed coldly through the empty foyer. "Sister? Eleanor is the bastard product of our father's weakness. She was a threat to everything our family built. I didn't torture her, Clara. I contained her."
