Chapter 13 - The Meeting
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My father stared at the threatening text message, the blood draining from his face before rushing back in a wave of terrifying, absolute fury.
"He's a dead man," my father whispered, slamming his fist onto the metal table, rattling the coffee mugs. "He threatens my daughter, and now he threatens my youngest. I will tear him apart."
"Arthur, no," Marcus Thorne cautioned, grabbing his arm. "If you retaliate violently now, it proves Julian's narrative that your family is unstable. We have the physical evidence to destroy him legally. We cannot afford a shootout in Grant Park."
"We can't just let him threaten Clara!" I shouted, panic consuming me. "He's completely unhinged. If I don't show up, he'll hurt her."
"You are going to show up," my father stated, his voice turning cold and calculating. "But you aren't going alone. And you aren't bringing the real files."
At 8:45 PM, the freezing Chicago wind whipped through Grant Park. The pavilion was isolated, bathed in the pale orange glow of a single streetlamp. I stood in the center, wearing a heavy winter coat, holding a manila folder filled with blank printer paper.
My heart hammered against my ribs, echoing in my ears.
Exactly at 9:00 PM, a figure emerged from the shadows of the tree line. Julian walked toward me, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his expensive wool overcoat. He looked exhausted, frantic, and infinitely dangerous.
"You look terrible, Evelyn," Julian sneered as he approached, stopping ten feet away. "Did you really think you could outsmart me? You're a housewife."
"I have the files, Julian," I said, my voice remarkably steady despite the terror threatening to break me. "Call off whoever is watching Clara, and I'll give them to you."
Julian laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "You don't get to make demands. Hand over the folder."
He took a step forward, reaching out aggressively.
"I wouldn't take another step if I were you."
The voice didn't come from me. It came from the shadows behind Julian.
Julian spun around. Emerging from the darkness were Sully and three massive dockworkers, holding heavy steel crowbars. They didn't look like lawyers. They looked like an execution squad.
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"You think a few thugs scare me?" Julian spat, reaching into his coat.
Before he could draw the weapon, a blinding spotlight snapped on from a vehicle parked on the adjacent street. The flashing red and blue lights of a Chicago police cruiser illuminated the entire pavilion.
