Chapter 27 - The Serpent in the Orchard
"You don't belong here, Victor," I said, my voice dropping an octave as I planted my feet firmly in the doorway, blocking his advance into the living room where Grace stirred softly in her sleep.
Victor chuckled, a dry, humorless sound, as he pulled off his leather gloves and casually tossed them onto our modest wooden side table. He surveyed the simple, cozy room with an expression of profound, theatrical amusement, his gaze lingering on the homespun curtains Clara had sewn by hand.
"My, my, Julian," Victor drawled, pacing slowly toward the center of the room like a wolf inspecting a pen of sleeping sheep. "From a twenty-room Long Island mansion with imported Italian marble to a dusty farmhouse smelling of manure and stale cider. You’ve truly outdone yourself in the art of self-destruction."
May you like
Clara stepped out from the kitchen, her jaw set, her eyes flashing with a protective fire that reminded me why I fell in love with her in the first place. "Get out of our house, Victor. We have nothing to say to you, and we certainly don't owe you anything."
Victor turned, flashing a razor-sharp grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, but you do, sweet Clara. You see, the liquidation of the Bennett estate wasn't quite as clean as your little rustic lawyers made it out to be. There's a small technicality—a signature on a forgotten offshore liability form—that attaches directly to Julian's name. And guess who just bought the debt for pennies on the dollar?"
