Chapter 6 - The Desperate Counterattack
Three weeks after the arrests, Julian made his final, disastrous attempt to turn the tables.
He had managed to post bail using the equity in his elderly parents' summer house in Maine—a move that had caused an irreparable rift within his own family. Camilla, unable to raise her two-hundred-thousand-dollar bond, remained in the county detention center awaiting trial, her high-priced lifestyle reduced to an orange jumpsuit and a communal telephone booth.
Julian was staying in a cramped, budget motel off Route 1, his credit destroyed, his passport surrendered to the court clerk. Desperation makes arrogant men reckless.
It was a rainy Tuesday evening when I left the Northstar investment offices on State Street. My driver, Michael, held an umbrella over my head as we walked toward the black town car idling at the curb.
“Nora!”
A figure darted out from the shadow of the parking garage across the narrow alley. He was drenched, his trench coat soaked through, his hair plastered to his forehead. He had lost at least fifteen pounds in three weeks; his cheekbones jutted out sharply, and his eyes had the wild, predatory gleam of a cornered animal.
Michael stepped instantly between us, his hand slipping inside his jacket toward the holster beneath his arm.
“Stay back, sir,” Michael barked.
“Nora, wait! Just give me five minutes!” Julian pleaded, raising his hands. His knuckles were raw and scraped. “Look at me! Please! You have to call off Evelyn Cross! She’s freezing my parents’ savings accounts under a fraudulent conveyance lien!”
I stopped at the open door of the car. I looked at him—really looked at him. The polished, charismatic executive who had mocked me at the Halcyon Gala had vanished. In his place stood an empty shell of vanity and resentment.
“Your parents helped you hide one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of Aurelia funds in an offshore trust six days before your arrest, Julian,” I said, keeping my voice utterly level. “That isn't my lien. That’s the United States Attorney’s Office. I don't control the Department of Justice.”
“You started this!” he screamed, his voice cracking against the brick walls of the alley. “You orchestrated every second of it! You could have just divorced me like a normal woman! But you wanted to destroy me! You wanted to parade me in front of the whole city like a criminal!”
“You were a criminal,” I said. “You embezzled millions from a company employing eight hundred people. You stole from my home. And at the party, you put your hands on me and whispered that your mistress belonged beside you.”
Julian’s face twisted. The desperation morphed back into the familiar, vicious sneer I had endured for years.
“You think you’re untouchable, don't you?” he hissed, taking a half-step forward before Michael’s hand dropped heavily onto his chest, shoving him back against the wet concrete wall. “I know things about Northstar, Nora. I know about your mother’s early acquisitions in the energy sector! I’ve spoken to a reporter from the Boston Globe. If you don't drop the civil claims and give me two million to walk away, I’ll leak documents that will drag your mother’s name through every tabloid in the country!”
I walked past Michael until I stood three feet from Julian. I didn't flinch. I didn't raise my voice.
“My mother was an open book, Julian. Every energy investment she made was audited and publicly disclosed fifteen years ago,” I said quietly. “The reporter you spoke to was Marcus Hayes from the business desk. Did you wonder why he didn't run your story?”
Julian blinked, his jaw slackening.
“Marcus Hayes called my legal team twenty minutes after you left his office,” I continued. “He provided us with the recording of your conversation, in which you explicitly offered to provide fabricated corporate records in exchange for twenty thousand dollars in cash. You just committed felony extortion on an active federal wire.”
Julian stumbled back against the wall, his knees visibly buckling.
May you like
“Two detectives are waiting inside that diner across the street,” I whispered, pointing across the rain-slicked avenue. “They wanted to see if you would actually attempt to shake me down in person. You never disappoint, Julian. You always choose the absolute lowest path available.”
Behind him, two plainclothes officers emerged from the diner, their badges hanging from neck chains, cutting through the rain with grim efficiency.
