Chapter 6: The First Confrontation
Julian came home at noon.
He walked into the kitchen and stopped.
Maya was seated at the table.
The documents were laid out in three neat rows.
The recorder — a copy Maya had made the night before — sat in the center.
He looked at it.
Then he looked at me.
"Elena." His voice was careful.
Measured.
The voice he used in arguments when he was deciding how much ground to give.
"What is this?"
"Sit down, Julian."
"I'm not going to—"
"Sit down."
He sat.
He set his keys on the table, slowly, like a man buying time.
"That's my attorney," I said.
"You've met Maya.
She's been here since this morning.
We've had a very interesting few hours."
He looked at Maya.
Maya looked back at him with the expression she reserved for depositions.
"I want to know about Diane," I said.
Something moved across his face.
Fast.
Gone.
"My mother d*ed eleven years ago."
"Your biological mother," I said.
"Not Victoria.
Diane.
The woman whose name is on the holding company that received eight hundred thousand dollars of my firm's money."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Julian." I slid the corporate registration across the table.
"Her name.
Her signature.
A company incorporated eight years ago, four years after she supposedly d*ed.
Controlled through a trust that Victoria has been the beneficiary of since the beginning." I paused.
"Is she alive?"
He didn't answer.
"Is Diane Hale alive?"
"I don't—" He stopped.
Pressed his fingers flat against the table.
"You don't understand how complicated this is."
"Then explain it to me."
"I can't."
"You forged my signature on financial documents.
You dr*gged your grandfather.
You left him alone in that room for days without proper food or care.
You filed a court motion to have him declared incompetent." My voice stayed level.
I had promised myself it would stay level.
"And you've been sending money — my money, Arthur's money — to a woman who has been legally d*ad for eleven years.
So I need you to explain it to me, Julian.
Right now.
Because my attorney is sitting at this table and she has copies of everything."
He looked at the documents.
He looked at Maya.
He looked at me.
Then he leaned back in his chair and said something I had not expected.
"She contacted me.
I didn't go looking for her."
The room went quiet.
"Six months ago," he said.
"A letter.
She said she needed help.
That she'd been hiding because she was afraid — afraid of what Victoria would do if she came back.
She said Victoria had forced her out.
Paid her to disappear.
Threatened her." He exhaled.
"She's my mother, Elena.
She reached out to me and she was scared."
"So you sent her two point three million dollars eighteen months ago," I said.
"Before the letter."
He went still.
"We found the earlier account, Julian.
The one from before she contacted you." I folded my hands on the table.
"So either you're lying about when this started, or someone else has been moving money to Diane for a year and a half and you had nothing to do with it."
He said nothing.
"Which is it?"
His jaw tightened.
"I want to speak to my own attorney."
"You can call whoever you like," Maya said pleasantly.
"But the preservation order is already in place.
Every account, every transaction, every filing — it's all been secured.
There's nothing left to move."
Julian's hand went to his phone.
He picked it up.
Set it down.
Picked it up again.
"You have no idea," he said quietly, "what Victoria is capable of."
"Tell me," I said.
He looked up.
For just a moment, something in his face shifted — not guilt, not anger, but something older and more frightened than either of those things.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face went white.
He stood up so fast his chair tipped backward and hit the floor.
"Don't answer it," he said.
"Elena — do not answer your phone."
May you like
My phone was already buzzing on the counter behind me.
The caller ID read: VICTORIA.
