Chapter 4 - The Price of Perfection
“The full equation?” David took a menacing step forward, shifting Leo’s weight so the boy was shielded by his torso. The brass poker gleamed under the recessed ceiling lights. “You put my six-year-old son in a crawlspace under your floorboards! You kept him like an animal while we searched rivers and abandoned warehouses!”
“He was fed. He had water. He was provided a mattress and blankets,” Julian replied, his tone as casual as if he were discussing a tenant in a rental property. “He was kept safe until certain transactions reached maturity.”
“Transactions?” David spat. “What kind of monster are you?”
Elena dragged herself up against an armchair, her voice cracked with despair. “The firm, David... Julian lost everything in the Cayman fund. Seven million dollars. Embezzled from cartel clients. They gave him thirty days to produce the cash, or they promised they would butcher both of us and send our limbs across state lines.”
David stared at his sister, disgusted comprehension dawning on him. “Our father’s trust,” David whispered.
“The estate clause,” Julian supplied smoothly, taking two slow steps closer. “Your father was a stubborn old bastard. He locked away thirty million dollars in an unbreakable trust. It distributes evenly to the surviving grandchildren upon the tragedy of their immediate legal guardians, or, in the case of your complete financial incapacitation and family collapse, defaults guardianship—and control of the funds—to Elena.”
Julian spread his hands, palms up. “You were supposed to break, David. A single father losing his son. You were spiraling. Another week, and the police would have ‘discovered’ Leo’s jacket by the reservoir. You would have surrendered custody of Maya to Elena out of profound, suicidal grief. Elena would have accessed the conservatorship funds, paid our debts, and Leo would have been quietly relocated to a private boarding school abroad under a forged European identity.”
“You were going to destroy my family for money,” David said, the realization settling into his chest like lead.
May you like
“I was going to save my own skin,” Julian corrected coldly. Then his hand slid inside his suit jacket. “And I still intend to.”
***
