Chapter 4 - The Ledger of SinsThe room felt suffocatingly small as Arthur Pendelton placed the battered leather ledger onto the mahogany desk. The pages inside were yellowed at the edges, filled with neat, old-fashioned fountain pen handwriting that detailed every transaction, bribe, and corporate maneuver of the Hawthorne-Prescott conglomerate dating back three decades.
“What is this garbage?” Harrison sneered, though his eyes darted nervously toward the book. “Some sentimental diary from a senile accountant?”
“It’s a confession, Harrison,” Julian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He opened the ledger to a bookmarked page marked with a red wax seal. “Page four hundred and twelve. Signed jointly by my father, Richard Hawthorne, and your uncle, Marcus Prescott. The acquisition of the Hayward Shipping Lanes—and the systematic liquidation of anyone who stood in the way.”
Arthur adjusted his spectacles, his hand shaking as he pointed a weathered finger at a line near the bottom of the page.
“Your mother found this book, Julian,” Arthur said, looking up with watery, guilt-ridden eyes. “She found out that your father and Mr. Prescott were laundering cartel money through the estate accounts. She threatened to go to the federal prosecutor on the morning of October twelfth.”
Nora stepped forward, the memory of that fateful night flashing behind her eyes. “My father received a package at our house that exact morning. It contained copies of these very pages, along with a note from Helena begging him to keep them safe if anything happened to her. That night, our house burned down. My mother and younger sister barely made it out; my father was trapped inside.”
“And Helena?” Julian asked, his voice cracking. He looked at Arthur, needing to hear the words he had spent eighteen years trying to ignore.
“She didn't fall down the stairs, Julian,” Arthur whispered, the confession tearing out of his throat like glass. “Your father pushed her. And Marcus Prescott watched from the landing.”
Camille let out a piercing scream, covering her ears. “Shut up! Stop lying! You’re all trying to ruin us! Daddy, tell them it’s a lie! Tell them!”
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Harrison Prescott didn’t answer his daughter. Instead, his right hand slowly slipped inside the breast pocket of his tailored suit jacket, his fingers wrapping around the cold, heavy steel of a licensed snub-nosed revolver.
“You shouldn't have dug this up, Julian,” Harrison said, his voice turning ice-cold as he yanked the weapon out and pointed it straight at Julian’s chest. “You were supposed to marry my daughter, take over the board, and keep your mouth shut like a good little heir. But curiosity killed more than just your mother.”
