Chapter 5 - THE COWARD'S CONFESSION
Julian stumbled backward, colliding with a cocktail table. Champagne glasses shattered against the marble, but no one flinched.
“Tell him!” Victor barked.
“Julian?” Richard’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it held the weight of a collapsing building. “Were you at the bridge?”
Julian sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. He looked nothing like a billionaire heir. He looked like a frightened, broken child.
“I was there,” Julian sobbed, the sound tearing through the silent room. “I was in the alley behind Liam’s garage. I followed him that night.”
My knees gave out. If it weren't for the heavy wooden chair beside me, I would have hit the floor again.
“You followed my husband?” I choked out, tears blinding me. “Why?”
Julian looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot and swollen. “To pay him off! Dad told me he was going to bring you both back. He told me he gave Liam his blessing. I couldn't handle it, Sophia! You were always the favorite. If you came back with a husband, I knew Dad would give you the CEO position. I was scared I’d lose everything.”
Richard closed his eyes, a look of profound physical pain crossing his face. “So you murdered him out of jealousy?”
“No!” Julian screamed, clawing at his own hair. “I didn't touch his truck! I swear on my life, Dad! I went to the garage with a briefcase full of cash. But when I got there, someone was already under Liam’s truck.”
Julian pointed a trembling finger at Vanessa.
“It was her.”
Vanessa burst into harsh, mocking laughter. “Oh, brilliant! The coward tries to blame the woman. Do you really think anyone here believes a twenty-two-year-old socialite crawled under a pickup truck in a freezing alley to cut brake lines?”
Answer one: Julian was at the scene, but he didn't do it.
Open two: If Vanessa didn't do it alone, who was with her?
“She didn't do it alone,” Julian cried. “She was standing watch! I saw her standing by the alley entrance, smoking a cigarette. She saw me. She smiled at me.”
Julian looked at Richard, tears streaming down his face. “She walked over to my car, tapped on the window, and said, ‘You don't have to pay him off, Julian. The problem is being handled.’”
“And you did nothing?” Richard roared, stepping toward his son, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were stark white. “You let him drive away?”
“I didn't know what they did!” Julian pleaded, backing away on his knees. “I thought they just slashed his tires! I didn't know until the news broke the next morning!”
I felt a small, warm hand slip into mine. Ava was looking up at me, her blue eyes—Liam’s blue eyes—wide with confusion and fear.
“Mommy, why is the man crying?” she whispered.
I pulled her into my arms, hiding her face against my chest. I didn't want her looking at the people who had slaughtered her father.
“Why didn't you tell me?” Richard demanded, his voice breaking. “For eight years, I thought your mother died witnessing a random tragedy. Why didn't you speak up?”
“Because she took a picture of me!” Julian cried out, looking completely defeated. “Vanessa took a flash photo of my license plate and my face in the alley. She told me if I ever said a word, she’d go to the police and say I hired her friends to do it. I was trapped, Dad. She’s been blackmailing me for years. That’s why I asked her to marry me. To keep her close. To keep her quiet.”
Victor shook his head in disgust. “A pathetic excuse for a man.”
Vanessa, however, wasn't panicking anymore. She was smiling. A cold, venomous smile that made my stomach churn.
“Bravo, Julian,” Vanessa clapped slowly. “You finally grew a spine. It only took eight years and your sister’s public humiliation.”
“You’re finished, Vanessa,” Richard stated, pulling out his cell phone. “I’m calling the police. I have judges in this room who will sign the warrant right now.”
Vanessa didn't flinch.
“Go ahead, Richard,” she challenged, crossing her arms. “Call them. Have them investigate the crash. Tell them to look into who actually crawled under the truck that night.”
She tilted her head, her eyes locking onto Richard’s with absolute malice.
“Do you honestly think a twenty-two-year-old girl orchestrated a professional hit on a mechanic without inside help?” Vanessa mocked. “I was following orders, Richard. Just like Julian. Just like the mailroom.”
Richard froze. “Whose orders?”
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Vanessa’s smile widened, showing all her teeth.
“Why don't you ask the man who taught me everything?” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger into the crowd of VIPs. “Why don't you ask Uncle Carmine?”
