Chapter 3 - Eleven Days of Lies
Julian pulled a thin black tablet from beneath his desk blotter, tapping the screen softly with his long, elegant fingers.
"Clara Mercer," Julian read aloud in a slow, hypnotic voice. "Born in South Side Chicago. Attended Illinois State University. Worked three years as a legal secretary at a corporate firm downtown before applying to my executive assistant opening through an agency."
He looked up from the tablet, his dark eyes boring into my soul.
"Only, Illinois State has no record of a Clara Mercer," Julian continued quietly. "The corporate firm downtown went bankrupt four years ago and burned all its paper archives. And your driver's license was issued nineteen days ago at a rural DMV three hours west of the city."
I sat frozen, the blood draining completely from my face. My fingers clenched tightly in the wool blanket.
"Who are you?" Julian asked, his tone dropping into that terrifyingly calm register. "And why did you lie to enter my home?"
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "If I tell you the truth... will you let me walk out of this house?"
"If you lie to me right now," Julian murmured, reaching down to touch the small silver revolver sitting beside his desk blotter, "you won't even make it to the front gate."
The room felt entirely suffocating. The silence stretched between us like a tightened piano wire.
"My real name is Clara Miller," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "My brother was Thomas Miller."
Julian’s eyebrows lifted slightly. A slow, dark understanding dawned in his eyes. "Thomas Miller. The mechanical engineer who worked for my family's shipping syndicate in East Chicago."
"He was killed six months ago," I said, tears springing to my eyes despite my effort to hold them back. "The police called it a botched robbery in an alleyway. But two days before he died, Thomas called me. He was terrified. He said he found a massive discrepancy in the cargo manifests at Vescari Shipping. He said someone inside your family was smuggling illegal weapons through the docks, using your name, and that if he didn't report it to you, he was going to be eliminated."
I leaned forward, looking Julian dead in the eyes.
"Two days later, he was dead. The police closed the case in forty-eight hours. No suspects, no investigation. I knew your family was involved. I forged my identity, applied for the temp secretary job, and got inside this house to find the encrypted shipping logs on your main server. I wanted to find out who killed my brother."
Julian listened to every word without interrupting. He picked up his silver revolver, twirled it slowly between his fingers, and set it back down on the desk.
"You came into my house seeking revenge," Julian said quietly. "You believed I was the man who ordered your brother's death."
"I wasn't sure," I replied honestly. "I knew you were paralyzed twenty-six months ago during an ambush at the docks. I knew you spent two years running this empire from a chair while your relatives chipped away at your power. I needed to see who was really holding the pen."
Julian leaned back in his wheelchair, looking at me with an intense, unreadable gaze.
"Thomas Miller was an honest man," Julian said softly. "I remembered his name because he sent a coded memo to my personal encrypted line three days before he died. I ordered Marco to bring him into this mansion for protection."
May you like
I blinked, stunned. "What?"
"Someone intercepted my order," Julian revealed, his jaw tightening with cold rage. "Thomas was murdered before Marco's team could reach him. I've been searching for his killer for six months, Clara. The same person who killed your brother... just tried to drown me in my own lake."
