Chapter 5 - JULIAN VALE
Julian did not return to the city like a ghost.
He returned like a man who expected the city to remember him.
A black car arrived at Samuel Redd’s coastal house at sunset.
Anthony knew because Samuel called him personally.
No greeting.
No pleasantries.
Only:
“Julian Vale is sitting in my living room.”
Anthony looked at Laurel.
She stopped breathing.
“Alive?”
Samuel gave a humorless laugh.
“Very.”
Anthony drove.
Laurel came with him.
Marcia insisted on coming.
Anthony refused.
She did not argue.
That disturbed him more than resistance.
Samuel’s house overlooked gray Atlantic water.
No gates.
No guards visible.
But Anthony knew better.
Samuel had spent forty years staying alive by seeing people before they saw him.
Inside, he waited beside the fireplace.
Seventy-eight.
Thin.
White hair.
Still sharp.
And sitting in a chair near the window was Julian Vale.
Laurel knew immediately.
Not because she remembered him.
Because she saw herself.
Same eyes.
Same narrow line of the mouth when silent.
Julian stood.
“Laurel.”
She did not move.
Anthony watched both.
Julian took one step.
Laurel raised her hand.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You don’t get to do that.”
“Laurel—”
“You don’t get to say my name like you missed one dinner.”
Julian lowered his gaze.
Anthony said nothing.
This belonged to her.
Laurel continued.
“My mother told me you died.”
“I asked her to.”
“You watched me.”
Julian looked up.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To know you were alive.”
“You could have called.”
“And brought Joseph to you?”
Laurel’s expression hardened.
“Joseph.”
Samuel spoke.
“He’s alive.”
Anthony turned.
Marcia believed Joseph disappeared.
Julian believed something worse.
“Where?” Anthony asked.
Samuel looked at Julian.
Julian answered.
“I don’t know.”
Anthony almost laughed.
“All these men surviving for decades without knowing where anyone is.”
Julian smiled faintly.
“You sound like Dominic.”
Anthony's face cooled.
“Do not compare me to my father.”
“Good.”
Julian sat.
“Dominic thought power meant knowing everything.”
Samuel poured himself a drink.
“Joseph understood power meant deciding what everyone else believed.”
Laurel remained standing.
“My mother is with Nathan.”
Julian nodded.
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because Nathan is protecting her.”
Anthony narrowed his eyes.
“You trust him?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I trust what he wants.”
“What does he want?”
Julian looked toward Anthony.
“To kill his father.”
Silence.
Joseph.
Nathan knew.
Perhaps for years.
Anthony sat opposite Julian.
“When did Nathan learn?”
“Seven months ago.”
“How?”
“Joseph contacted him.”
Laurel frowned.
“Why?”
“To recruit him.”
Anthony understood.
Blood calling blood.
Joseph had spent decades hidden.
Now he wanted his son.
“Nathan refused?”
“At first.”
“At first.”
Julian nodded.
“That is why Helen contacted him. She believed Nathan was wavering.”
Laurel stared.
“My mother knows him?”
“For years.”
That hurt again.
Another secret.
Julian saw it.
“Helen kept more from you than I wanted.”
“Don’t defend her.”
“I’m not.”
Anthony watched Julian carefully.
“What does Joseph want?”
“The family.”
“To lead it?”
“No.”
Julian looked at the ocean.
“To break it.”
Samuel spoke from behind them.
“Joseph never wanted Dominic’s chair. That’s what everyone misunderstood.”
Anthony frowned.
“What did he want?”
“To prove the chair destroyed whoever sat in it.”
Julian nodded.
“He believes family loyalty is a lie men use to justify controlling one another.”
Anthony thought of the banquet.
Marcia.
Laurel on her knees.
Raised hands.
Joseph did not need to invent the poison.
The family already carried it.
He only needed to press.
“Frederick’s debt,” Anthony said.
“Joseph.”
“Yes.”
“Marcia’s fear.”
“Joseph.”
“Nathan?”
Julian shook his head.
“Nathan has been playing both sides.”
Anthony did not like that answer.
“Why?”
“Because Joseph has something Nathan wants.”
“What?”
Julian looked at Laurel.
“A name.”
“Whose?”
“The man who killed Nathan’s mother.”
Anthony stared.
Nathan’s mother had supposedly died from illness when he was ten.
Another family story cracking.
Julian continued.
“Joseph claims Dominic ordered it.”
Anthony's jaw tightened.
“My father.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t believe him.”
“I believe Joseph lies most effectively when he starts with truth.”
Laurel looked at her father.
“And you?”
“What?”
“How much truth did you use?”
Julian absorbed the question.
“A lot.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Good answer.”
He did not ask forgiveness.
Anthony respected him slightly more for that.
Samuel suddenly placed his glass down.
Everyone looked toward him.
“Someone’s outside.”
Anthony heard nothing.
Samuel did.
He opened a drawer and removed a weapon.
Anthony stood.
Julian did not.
“Joseph?”
Samuel shook his head.
“He doesn’t come himself.”
The lights died.
Laurel whispered, “Anthony.”
He found her hand in the darkness.
A car engine roared outside.
Then glass shattered in another room.
One of Samuel’s hidden guards shouted.
A struggle.
Then silence.
Emergency lights came on.
The front door stood open.
Nobody had entered the living room.
Nobody needed to.
On the floor just inside the doorway sat a small black box.
Anthony stared.
Julian went pale.
“What?”
Julian whispered, “That’s his.”
Inside the box was no bomb.
No weapon.
A family photograph.
Anthony and Michael as children.
Dominic standing behind them.
Someone had drawn a black circle around Michael’s face.
On the back were five words.
ONE SON PAID. ONE REMAINS.
Anthony’s blood went cold.
Julian looked at him.
“Joseph isn’t coming for the chair.”
“No.”
May you like
Anthony closed his fist around the photograph.
“He’s coming for me.”
