Chapter 3 - The Deception
Julian walked through the front doors of the Miller mansion with a heavy heart, or at least that was the performance he was putting on. He walked into the living room, where Marcus and Harold were sitting, sipping scotch as if it were a normal Tuesday evening. They looked up as he entered, their expressions carefully crafted to appear sympathetic.
"Julian," Harold said, standing up. "How is she? How’s the baby?"
"She’s... she’s recovering," Julian said, his voice thick with emotion—some of it real, some of it carefully measured. "She’s exhausted. The doctors are worried about the shock."
Marcus took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes lingering on Julian. "That’s too bad. Truly. Accidents happen, though. Maybe it’s for the best if she stays at the hospital for a few days, get some real rest."
"Yeah," Julian muttered, sinking into a chair. "I think you’re right, Marcus. She needs space."
Harold paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "Listen, Julian, I know this is a difficult time, but we have some business matters that need your immediate attention. The board is getting restless about the new merger."
Julian felt his blood boil, but he kept his expression neutral. "Now? Dad, my wife was just pushed down the stairs. Can’t this wait?"
"It’s precisely because of the stress this has caused that you should focus on something else," Harold replied smoothly. "Take your mind off it. Focus on the work. That’s what a professional does."
Julian looked at his father, searching for a flicker of humanity, but found only the cold, hard ambition of a predator. "Fine. What do you need?"
Marcus leaned forward, his grin sharpening. "Just a few signatures, brother. You know how it is. Things need to move forward."
Julian spent the next three hours in the study, surrounded by stacks of legal documents. He pretended to read them, but he was actually scanning them for any sign of financial manipulation. Hidden within the fine print of a seemingly innocuous real estate acquisition, he found it—a shell company registered in an island nation he’d never heard of, linked directly to Sarah’s old bank account.
He carefully photographed every page with his phone, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had the proof. Now he just needed to find out where Sarah was being kept, or if she was actually free and participating in this charade.
That night, he slipped out of his room while everyone was asleep. He crept into his father’s office, the room where Sarah had been seen in the video. He searched the desk, the bookshelves, the paintings—nothing. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed a slight indentation in the hardwood floor under the rug. He pulled back the rug and found a small, hidden wall safe.
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He didn't have the combination, but he knew who might. He took a picture of the keypad and sent it to a private investigator he’d hired years ago for a minor background check. It was a long shot, but he had no other options.
He returned to his room just as the first light of dawn was breaking, his mind racing. He was playing a dangerous game, but he was winning. He hadn't realized how deep the corruption went until he saw the documents, but now that he knew, there was no turning back. He would save his wife, save his child, and tear down his family’s empire if that’s what it took to ensure their safety. The sun rose, signaling the beginning of a new day, and a new phase in his plan to destroy the monsters who called themselves his family.
