Chapter 33 - A Ride Through Purgatory
The black sedan carved its way through the howling blizzard, its heavy tires churning through drifts of fresh snow.
Arthur leaned his aching forehead against the frosted window, watching the desolate pine trees blur past like skeletal sentinels.
Every bump in the unpaved mountain road sent sharp spikes of agony through his bruised ribs.
"You always were the sentimental fool, Arthur," Julian spoke without taking his eyes off the dark road.
"She poisoned our father, Julian," Arthur croaked, clutching his throbbing left wrist. "You know she did."
Julian sneered, a crooked smile carving through the deep scars on his weathered face.
"The old bastard had it coming," Julian muttered coldly. "He left everything to you, the golden boy."
"I never asked for the estate!" Arthur yelled, his voice echoing off the fogged glass. "I gave you half the company!"
"Paper money," Julian scoffed, flicking his cigarette butt into the center console ashtray. "Eleanor showed me where the real gold was buried."
Arthur felt his blood turn to ice as the puzzle pieces began locking into place.
The mysterious bank failures twenty years ago, the sudden disappearance of the family bonds, the yacht sinking in Lake Michigan.
"You faked your death together," Arthur said, the horrific truth settling deep in his chest. "You were sleeping with my wife even back then."
Julian tapped his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel, completely unbothered by Arthur’s fury.
"Eleanor belongs to nobody, Arthur," Julian said casually. "She just uses whatever pawn is standing closest to the board."
"Then she’s going to kill you too," Arthur warned, leaning forward until the seatbelt cut into his chest. "Look at what she did to me tonight!"
"She won't touch me," Julian scoffed, tapping the inside pocket of his heavy wool coat. "I have the ledger she needs."
The sedan crested a steep ridge, revealing a frozen expanse of black water far below in the valley.
Perched on the edge of the jagged cliff stood the old Sterling boathouse, its blackened timber silhouetted against the storm.
Through the falling snow, Arthur could see the yellow beam of an oil lantern burning in the second-story window.
Parked near the rotten wooden dock was Eleanor’s massive SUV, its engine idling with a steady, low growl.
"Home sweet home," Julian chuckled, killing the sedan's headlights as they rolled quietly down the steep incline.
Arthur reached toward the passenger door handle, but Julian’s hand shot across the console like a striking serpent.
The cold barrel of the revolver pressed hard against Arthur’s kneecap.
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"Step out slow, brother," Julian whispered, his thumb pulling back the hammer with a sharp click. "Or you’ll crawl into the living room on your belly."
***
