Chapter 9: What Julian Finally Said
I chose a hotel lobby for the meeting.
Open, public, no private corners.
I arrived twenty minutes early and sat where I could see the entrance.
Julian walked in at exactly the time I'd given him.
He looked like someone who had not slept.
His jacket was slightly wrong — the collar uneven, a button he'd missed at the cuff.
He scanned the room, found me, and crossed toward me with the particular walk of a man who has rehearsed what he's going to say and is no longer certain it's enough.
He sat down.
He didn't speak immediately.
"You look terrible," I said.
"I know."
A server came.
Julian ordered water.
I already had coffee.
When the server left, Julian put both hands flat on the table and looked at me.
"I need to tell you everything," he said.
"Then tell me."
He did.
It took forty minutes.
He started at the beginning — the real beginning, not the version he'd given me over the years.
The second business, the one he'd said was a dry run, had actually launched.
Quietly, with Victor Marsh as a silent partner.
For eight months it had done well enough.
Then Marsh had made decisions Julian hadn't been told about in advance — investments Julian hadn't approved, commitments made in the company's name.
By the time Julian understood what was happening, the company owed money it couldn't repay.
"Why didn't you dissolve it?" I asked.
"Because Marsh said if I did, the people he'd borrowed from would come after me personally.
He said the only way out was through — keep the company alive, keep making payments, eventually clear the debt."
"And you believed him."
Julian's jaw tightened.
"I didn't have a better option.
Or I thought I didn't."
"And Renata?"
He looked at the table.
"Marsh introduced her.
Said she was a consultant who could help restructure the finances.
She was — I thought she was helping." He stopped.
"I know how that sounds."
"It sounds like you trusted people you shouldn't have."
"Yes."
"While taking money from me without telling me why."
He didn't flinch from that.
"Yes."
I looked at him for a long moment.
He met my eyes and didn't look away.
That was new.
Julian had always been good at looking away from difficult things.
"The hotel suites," I said.
Something crossed his face.
"Renata insisted on meeting in person.
She said the phone wasn't secure.
I know—" He stopped.
"I know what it looked like.
It wasn't what it looked like.
But I also know that doesn't fix anything."
"No," I said.
"It doesn't."
The lobby was busy around us.
A family with luggage.
A businessman on his phone.
Ordinary motion in all directions.
"Julian," I said.
"Victor Marsh texted me yesterday."
Julian went very still.
"He said we should talk."
"Don't meet him." The words came out fast and flat.
"Sloan, please.
Don't meet him."
"Why?"
"Because he's not—" Julian stopped.
He looked around the lobby, a quick involuntary scan.
Then back at me.
"He's not someone who responds well to people who know too much.
The reason I didn't tell you any of this — one of the reasons — was because I didn't want you anywhere near him."
"He already knows I've been pulling records."
Julian's hands pressed harder against the table.
"How?"
"I don't know.
But he reached out, which means he's not waiting."
Julian leaned forward.
"Then we need to move faster than him.
Whatever Darcy has — whatever she's found — we need to give it to someone who can act on it.
Not civil.
Criminal." He looked at me with an urgency I hadn't seen from him in years.
"Because Marsh has done this before.
To other people.
And the only reason he's still operating is because nobody has ever put all of it together at once."
I studied his face.
The rehearsed speech was gone.
This was something else.
"Are you willing to give a statement?" I asked.
"Yes."
"About everything.
The company, the transfers, Renata, the debt structure, all of it."
"Yes."
"Even the parts that make you look like a fool?"
His mouth tightened.
"Especially those."
I sat back.
I picked up my coffee.
It had gone cold while he was talking.
"I'll call Darcy," I said.
"She'll arrange it."
He nodded.
He looked like a man who had just put down something very heavy.
Then he said, quietly: "Sloan.
I'm sorry.
Not for the legal situation.
For all of it.
For seven years of letting you carry things I should have carried myself.
For not reading the paperwork.
For not telling you the truth." He paused.
"For telling you to get out of your own house."
I looked at him.
"I know it doesn't fix anything," he said.
"No," I said.
"It doesn't."
I stood up and picked up my bag.
May you like
"But it's a start," I said.
And I walked toward the door to call Darcy.
