Chapter 8 - THE MAN BEHIND JULIAN
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Victor Thorne had been dead for eight years.
Or so everyone believed.
We found him in a private estate outside Boston.
I expected a monster.
Instead, I found an aging man sitting beside a fireplace.
He looked weak.
But his eyes were sharp.
“You look like your father.”
I hated hearing that.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“You've had eight years to tell it.”
“I didn't think you'd survive.”
“Survive what?”
“Julian.”
I stared.
“You created him.”
Victor smiled bitterly.
“I created a man who believed money could buy respect.”
“And what did he think of me?”
“He knew you were the heir.”
“Then why marry me?”
“To get close enough to control you.”
I stepped forward.
“You stole from me.”
“Yes.”
“You hurt my mother.”
“I ordered him never to touch her.”
I laughed.
“He did anyway.”
Victor lowered his eyes.
“I underestimated my son.”
“Why did my father hide the trust?”
“Because he knew I would try to seize it.”
I stared.
“Then why didn't he tell me?”
“Because he wanted you to choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Whether you wanted the Sterling fortune.”
“I'm a Carter.”
“By name.”
He looked at me.
“But the bloodline is Thorne.”
I already knew.
What I didn't know was the final secret.
Victor revealed that my father had created another trust.
One containing not money.
A complete archive of the Thorne family's illegal activities.
The archive included proof that Julian's father and my father had both been involved in corporate bribery decades earlier.
My father later tried to expose it.
That was why he was killed.
“By whom?”
Victor looked at me.
“Your mother.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
“She didn't know.”
“What?”
“She was forced.”
I shook my head.
“By whom?”
“Julian's grandfather.”
The family conspiracy had been deeper than I imagined.
Everyone had been trapped.
My father.
My mother.
Mara.
Even Victor.
Except one person.
Julian.
Victor looked away.
“He knew everything.”
My stomach turned.
“Then why did he marry me?”
“Because he believed the past belonged to him.”
“And now?”
“He wants the archive.”
“Where is it?”
Victor smiled.
“You already possess it.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“Your father hid it inside the only thing he knew Julian would never suspect.”
“What?”
Victor pointed at me.
“Your memories.”
I stared.
He explained.
Years earlier, my father had given me a childhood music box.
I had kept it for decades.
Never opened the hidden compartment.
I returned home.
My mother brought the box from storage.
I opened it.
Inside was a small digital drive.
Marcus plugged it in.
Hundreds of files appeared.
Emails.
Recordings.
Payments.
Names.
And one folder.
JULIAN.
Inside was a video.
My father sat at a desk.
He looked tired.
But alive.
The recording had been made three days before his death.
“Serena,” he said.
“If you're watching this, Julian has failed.”
I cried.
My father continued.
“I knew he would betray you.”
“I knew he would try to take your trust.”
“But I never wanted revenge.”
He paused.
“I wanted you free.”
Then his final words:
“Your mother is innocent.”
The video ended.
My mother began crying.
“I told you.”
I hugged her.
“I'm sorry.”
She shook her head.
“You were never supposed to carry this.”
I looked at Marcus.
“Where is Julian?”
He checked his phone.
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“He emptied one final account.”
“How much?”
“Everything.”
“And where did he go?”
Marcus looked at the GPS log.
“Chicago.”
I felt cold.
“What does he want?”
Marcus answered:
“Your mother.”
May you like
I stood.
“Then let's go home.”
