Chapter 5 - The Boathouse on 4th Street
The old boathouse on 4th Street was a decaying wooden structure sitting at the edge of the industrial canal. Rain drizzled from gray clouds, turning the gravel lot into slick, black mud.
I parked my car near the tree line, my heart hammering against my chest. The smart thing to do was turn around and drive home. But the seed of doubt Julian had planted had taken root, choking out reason.
I pushed open the rusting iron door of the boathouse. The smell of rot, wet wood, and engine oil hung heavy in the damp air.
“Julian?” I called out, my voice echoing off the high, exposed rafters.
A shadow moved near the far corner of the dock. Julian stepped into the dim light filtering through the cracked windows. He looked terrible. His hair was unkempt, his eyes bloodshot, and he wore a dark jacket covered in rain spots.
“You came,” Julian said, a hollow, desperate smile touching his lips. “I knew you still cared.”
“I’m not here because I care,” I said coldly, keeping my distance. “Show me the documents, Julian. Show me the proof that Ethan engineered my father’s debt.”
Julian reached into his coat pocket. But instead of pulling out a folder or a flash drive, his hand emerged holding a heavy, black snub-nosed revolver.
My breath caught in my throat. I froze, my blood turning to ice.
“Julian... what are you doing?” I whispered, taking a cautious step back.
“There are no documents, Clara,” Julian said, his eyes wide and unblinking, filled with the wild panic of a ruined man. “Ethan destroyed every record six months ago. He’s clean. He’s completely clean.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“Because Ethan cares about you!” Julian yelled, his voice cracking as he stepped toward me, raising the barrel of the gun. “He played the cold, unfeeling billionaire for three years, but last night... last night I saw his eyes when I touched you! He loves you, Clara! You’re the only thing on this earth that man actually values!”
Tears of fear filled my eyes. “Julian, please. Put the gun down.”
“If I go to prison, I lose everything,” Julian rasped, sweat dripping down his temple. “My family is broke. My reputation is gone. But if I have you... Ethan will give me whatever I ask for. He’ll drop the charges. He’ll transfer fifty million dollars to a Swiss account. He’ll give me a jet out of the country.”
Julian grabbed my arm, twisting it forcefully and pulling me against his chest, jamming the cold barrel of the gun against my temple.
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“You’re my ticket out of this, Clara,” Julian whispered into my ear. “You’re going to call him. And you’re going to tell him that if he wants his wife back alive, he’s going to surrender everything.”
Before I could scream, the heavy wooden doors of the boathouse were blown off their hinges with a deafening crash.
