Chapter 12 - Back at the Church
I did not go alone.
Julian simply didn’t know that.
Morales placed officers around the church.
Marcus wore a concealed microphone.
Daniel protested the entire plan.
“This is ridiculous.”
“You said the same thing about my wedding.”
“I was correct then too.”
I almost smiled.
The church was dark except for a few altar lights.
White wedding flowers still decorated several pews.
Mine.
I had paid for them.
No.
Technically, stolen Hawthorne funds had paid for them.
Even the flowers were evidence.
Julian stood near the front.
Same church.
Same man.
Completely different life.
He turned when I entered.
For one second, his face looked relieved.
“You came.”
“You asked.”
He stepped toward me.
I stopped.
“Stay there.”
He did.
His suit was gone.
He wore jeans and a dark jacket.
His eyes looked hollow.
“My mother was arrested.”
“I know.”
“She’ll blame me.”
“She should probably blame herself.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
He looked around the empty church.
“I did love you.”
I almost laughed.
“Start somewhere useful.”
“I’m serious.”
“Did you love me when you hired investigators?”
His face tightened.
“You found the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t hire them because I wanted your money.”
“Then why?”
“Because Mom told me you were lying.”
“About what?”
“Who you were.”
I folded my arms.
“She said no consultant could afford your apartment.”
That was true.
“She thought you were connected to Hawthorne.”
“So you investigated me.”
“I wanted answers.”
“You could have asked.”
“You were private.”
“I was not private. You were uninterested.”
That struck him.
Good.
I continued.
“I talked about work constantly. You never listened.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
“No. You know now.”
Silence.
“What happened when you learned I owned Hawthorne?”
His shoulders dropped.
“I panicked.”
“Why?”
“Because our loans were with you.”
“With my company.”
“You could destroy us.”
“I could also have helped you.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You never asked.”
He looked at me.
“I thought you’d leave.”
“So you decided to steal first?”
“It wasn’t supposed to become this.”
“What was it supposed to become?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“A temporary guarantee.”
“Forged.”
“I was going to replace it with a real one.”
“After emotionally manipulating me.”
He said nothing.
“The tracker?”
“To know where you were.”
“That is not an explanation.”
“After I discovered Cynthia was copying records, I didn’t know who she was talking to.”
“So you tracked both of us.”
“Yes.”
“The life insurance?”
“My mother’s idea.”
“Did you sign it?”
“Yes.”
“The medical authorization?”
He hesitated.
My skin went cold.
“Julian.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He closed his eyes.
“It wasn’t what it looks like.”
“They should put that sentence on your family crest.”
He almost laughed.
Then he sat in the front pew.
“I needed authority if something happened while we traveled.”
“What was supposed to happen?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why forge it?”
“Because you would have asked questions.”
“That is what people do before granting someone authority over their body.”
He looked ashamed.
At least I hoped it was shame.
Then I asked the question that mattered most.
“Did you plan to hurt me?”
His head snapped up.
“No.”
“Did Beatrice?”
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Then why the insurance?”
“Financial leverage.”
“Explain.”
“If the insurer approved a policy, Sterling Development could show lenders additional risk protection.”
“That is not how key-person insurance works when the insured doesn’t even work for your company.”
“I know.”
“You know now?”
He looked away.
I was done protecting him from himself.
“Why the St. Lucia flight?”
“Mom wanted time.”
“To do what?”
“Move documents. Move money.”
“She wanted me out of Chicago.”
“Yes.”
“And you agreed.”
“Yes.”
The admission was quiet.
I stared at the altar where forty-eight hours earlier Julian promised to honor me.
“Why did you marry me?”
He looked directly at me.
“Because I loved you.”
“Not good enough.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then why did every choice you make benefit you and hurt me?”
His face collapsed.
For the first time, he had no answer.
Maybe because there wasn’t one.
Love without respect is just appetite.
Julian had wanted me.
My warmth.
My loyalty.
My stability.
My money when necessary.
But he had never respected my freedom enough to allow me to choose.
He stood.
“I can testify against my mother.”
“Do it.”
“I can give you the foreign accounts.”
“Give them to police.”
“I need something first.”
Of course.
“What?”
“Protection.”
“For?”
“My cooperation.”
I stared at him.
“You set a warehouse on fire.”
His eyes widened.
“I did not.”
“You were there.”
“I tried to stop her.”
“Arthur’s video—”
“Doesn’t show what happened after.”
“Tell me.”
“My mother started the fire.”
“How?”
“She brought accelerant.”
My skin prickled.
“She planned it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you go?”
“To stop Dad from finding the records.”
“That sounds like helping her.”
“At first.”
I almost laughed.
That phrase again.
“At first.”
Julian stepped closer.
“I changed my mind.”
“When?”
“When Dad fell.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He tried to get past me. We struggled. He fell against a shelf.”
“Did you hurt him?”
“No. Not intentionally.”
“What happened?”
“The shelf collapsed. Mom panicked. She started pouring fuel.”
“And you?”
“I got Dad toward the rear exit.”
“But he was found alone.”
“Mom screamed that police were coming. I left.”
“You abandoned your father in a burning warehouse.”
Julian’s eyes filled.
“I thought he was outside.”
I looked at him.
Maybe it was true.
Maybe not.
Then Julian reached inside his jacket.
Several officers moved in unseen positions around the church.
I stayed still.
He pulled out a flash drive.
“This has the foreign accounts.”
“Put it on the pew.”
He did.
“Passwords?”
“Inside.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because my mother will destroy me.”
“She is in custody.”
“She has people.”
“Who?”
Julian shook his head.
“I don’t know all of them.”
“Convenient.”
He stepped backward.
“I need to leave.”
Police appeared from both side aisles.
“Julian Sterling!”
He froze.
Then looked at me.
Betrayal crossed his face.
I almost couldn’t believe it.
“You brought police?”
“You tracked me for three weeks.”
Officers approached.
Julian didn’t resist.
Morales stepped forward.
“You are being detained in connection with financial fraud and the Cicero warehouse fire.”
Julian stared at me as cuffs closed around his wrists.
“I trusted you.”
The irony was so enormous that even Morales looked stunned.
I walked closer.
“No, Julian.”
My voice was quiet.
“You trusted me to keep loving you more than I loved myself.”
He looked away.
The officers led him down the aisle.
May you like
At the same altar where we had promised forever, my marriage finally became what it had probably always been.
Evidence.
