Chapter 97 - A Whisper in the Dark
The sound reverberated through the stone corridor like a gunshot. Vance spun on his heel, his weapon raised, the flashlight beam cutting through the damp mist that seeped between the granite blocks. At the end of the long passageway, the massive iron gate that led to the lower drainage canal had swung shut, and the heavy bolt had fallen into place with a deafening latch.
"We're boxed in," Vance muttered, his jaw tight as he moved quickly toward the gate, inspecting the iron bars. "The mechanism is outside. There’s no release latch on this side."
From the shadows just beyond the iron grate, a match was struck. The yellow flare illuminated a hollow, weathered face lined with deep crevices of bitterness and decades of exposure to harsh northern winters. It was the man from the parlor window. His eyes, sunken and pale gray beneath heavy brows, fixed upon Clara with an intensity that made the air freeze in our throats.
"Clara," Julian spoke, his voice sounding like two dry stones grinding together. "You grew up looking like our mother. Evelyn looked like Arthur—cold, hollow, and full of poison."
"Julian..." Clara’s voice shook, but she stood her ground, stepping up to the rusted bars. "Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you go to the authorities? Evelyn is gone! The state troopers have her in custody! The fraud is broken!"
A dry, wheezing laugh escaped Julian's cracked lips. "The authorities? You think a judge with an ink pen can fix what Arthur did to this family? You think putting that miserable woman in an Albany holding cell pays for fifty years in the dark?"
He stepped closer to the bars, his soot-stained coat smelling intensely of wood ash and kerosene. In his leather-gloved hand, he held an old brass lighter, flicking the wheel open and closed with a hypnotic, rhythmic snap.
"Arthur stole my life," Julian said softly, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying calm. "He told the world I was dead so he could take my mother's land and give it to his golden girl, Evelyn. And Evelyn raised Melissa to be just like them—a parasite living on blood she didn't bleed for. I watched your little girl cry on the lawn this Easter, Katherine. I watched Melissa’s brats tear that dress and laugh while Evelyn nodded her approval."
His eyes shifted to me, burning with a strange, feral light. "That wasn't just children playing, little sister. That was the Van Der Bilt curse. They take what is pure, they trample it in the dirt, and they call it their birthright."
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"Julian, please," I said, my voice steady despite the terror coiling in my chest. "Lily is safe. We broke them without violence. Don't throw away your life now."
Julian looked down at the brass lighter in his palm, a grim smile touching the corners of his mouth. "My life ended at the weir in 1974, Katherine. Tonight, I'm just settling the ledger."
