Chapter 7 - The Truth In The Dark
That night, after the massive house went completely dark, I crept down the grand staircase.
My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I slipped into Arthur's study, closing the heavy mahogany doors silently behind me.
I found the floor safe hidden beneath an ornate Persian rug, just as Julian had said.
My hands shook as I dialed in the combination I had seen on a plaque in the hallway.
With a heavy click, the steel door swung open.
Inside, I found stacks of cash, but beneath them lay a thick, dusty manila folder.
I pulled it out and opened it under the faint glow of my small flashlight.
Inside were police reports, private investigator notes, and photographs of a crushed, burning car.
My parents' car.
I read through the documents, tears blurring my vision.
But as I read further, the narrative began to shift dramatically from what Julian had told me.
The target of the car bomb wasn't my father at all.
The private investigator's report clearly stated the bomb was planted on Arthur's personal vehicle.
My father had borrowed Arthur's car that night to pick up a birthday cake for Grace.
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Arthur hadn't killed my father.
My father had died because he was driving Arthur's car.
