Chapter 3 - The Confession on the Driveway
I ignored Julian’s call, but as the afternoon wore on, I knew I had to go back. I couldn't leave my home, my clothes, or my bank accounts entirely unprotected while a criminal operation was running out of my kitchen. Sienna insisted on accompanying me, parking her car two houses down from ours.
When I pulled into the driveway, Julian was pacing frantically by the garage. As soon as my car door opened, he rushed over, his face red and streaked with tears.
“Nora! Thank God. Where were you? Mom is gone. She packed her bags and left.”
I stepped out of the car, keeping a safe distance. “Good. Because if she was still here, I would have called the police myself. Now, explain, Julian. Right now. Who is David Vance?”
Julian stopped dead in his tracks. The frantic husband act melted away, replaced by the shattered expression of a man caught in a vice. He slumped against the hood of my car, burying his face in his hands.
“He’s my brother,” Julian whispered, his voice muffled. “Mom’s oldest son.”
“Why did you lie to me? For twelve years, you let me believe you were an only child!”
“Because of what he did!” Julian yelled, his head snapping up, eyes wild with desperation. “David is a pharmacist in Phoenix, but he lost his license years ago due to medical fraud. He’s a gambler, Nora. A high-stakes gambler with loan sharks breathing down his neck.”
“And what does that have to do with poisoning me?” I demanded, crossing my arms to stop my body from trembling.
Julian swallowed hard, unable to meet my eyes. “Mom… Mom came to me six months ago. David was in deep. The loan sharks said if he didn't pay them fifty thousand dollars, they were going to break his legs. Mom begged me to help.”
“So you gave them money?”
“We didn't have fifty thousand dollars!” Julian shouted, tears finally spilling over. “Our savings were tied up in the mortgage and Chloe’s school. But… but Mom said there was another way.”
A cold dread pooled in my stomach. “What way, Julian?”
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“Your life insurance policy,” he whispered, the words barely audible over the wind. “A million-dollar payout, Nora. Mom said if we made you sick enough, we could file for medical leave, collect disability, and eventually… if something happened to you… David’s debt would be cleared, and we’d be safe.”
The world went completely silent. My husband—the man I shared a bed with, the father of my child—had put a price tag on my life.
