Chapter 28 - The Silent War
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I watched Richard walk back up the stairs, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. The moment the basement door clicked shut, I pulled out a burner phone I had hidden behind a loose brick in the wall—one I hadn't told Mara or Silas about.
I dialed a private number for Agent Harris, the federal contact who had granted my immunity.
"Harris," I whispered into the phone, keeping my voice low. "The Ledger I gave you. Did it contain anything on Vance Industries?"
"Julian?" Harris sounded surprised. "No. The Ledger was entirely focused on Victor's offshore accounts and cartel ties. Why? Do you have something else?"
"Not over the phone," I said. "I'll be in touch."
I hung up and smashed the burner phone with a hammer. Richard had scrubbed the Ledger before I ever stole it. He had protected his own assets and left Victor exposed as the fall guy.
I walked upstairs. The house was alive with the sounds of chaos. Mara was in the kitchen, laughing as she tried to wipe spaghetti sauce off Micah’s face. Milo and Max were chasing the puppy around the living room island, while Mason sat quietly at the table, drawing a picture.
I stood in the doorway, staring at the beautiful, perfect life I had fought so hard to protect.
If I exposed Richard to the FBI, Vance Industries would crumble. Mara’s inheritance, her trust in her father, her entire worldview would be shattered. The scandal would follow my sons for the rest of their lives.
But if I kept the secret, I was allowing a monster to sleep in the guest room. I was allowing the man who orchestrated a war that almost killed my wife to hold his grandchildren.
Mara looked up from scrubbing Micah’s face and caught my eye. Her smile faded instantly, her mother's intuition picking up on the dark cloud hanging over me.
"Julian?" she asked, wiping her hands on a towel. "What's wrong? You look pale."
"Nothing," I forced a warm smile, walking over and kissing her deeply. "Just tired from moving furniture. The study is almost cleared out."
"Good," she smiled, leaning her head against my chest. "I was thinking we could paint it blue for the boys' playroom."
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"Blue sounds perfect," I agreed softly, looking over her shoulder at the hallway leading to the basement.
The war with Victor was over with bullets and blood. But a new, silent war had just begun inside the walls of my own home.
