Chapter 4 - Shadows at the Wickenden Gate
By noon the following day, Providence was engulfed in a biting autumn rain. Inside the greenhouse at the back of the Wickenden Street flower shop, the air was warm, smelling of damp potting soil, cut stems, and eucalyptus. Megan had insisted on returning to work, refusing to sit idle inside Julian Vance’s castle like an invalid. Julian hadn't forbidden her; he had simply assigned two quiet men in a dark sedan across the street and placed Moren inside the shop, ostensibly acting as a new assistant florist.
Megan clipped the thorns from a bundle of crimson roses, her shears slicing cleanly through the wood. The rhythmic, mechanical work steadied her hands. Every time the bell above the shop’s front door chimed, her pulse spiked, but it was always an ordinary customer seeking bouquets for anniversaries or funerals.
At three o'clock, the bell rang with violent urgency.
Rick stepped through the door, shaking water from the collar of his tailored overcoat. His face was pale, his eyes rimmed in red, and the polished perfection he usually projected had begun to fray around the edges. When he saw Megan standing behind the counter, a flash of relief crossed his face, instantly replaced by dark, calculating fury.
""Megan,"" he said, keeping his voice pitched low, attempting that smooth, reasonable cadence that once made her second-guess her own sanity. ""Thank God you’re here. Do you have any idea what you did the other night? Running off into the halls of that madman's house? I’ve been out of my mind looking for you.""
Megan didn't flinch. She set the shears down on the counter with a quiet, deliberate click. ""You brought me there to sell me, Rick.""
Rick’s jaw clenched, his eyes darting toward Moren, who stood by the display fridge arranging lilies with an expression of total indifference. He took two steps closer, leaning over the counter, his functional smile tightening into a sneer.
""Don't be dramatic, Megan. You don't understand the pressures I was under. It was a bluff—a business maneuver to buy us time. I knew Vance wouldn't touch you. But you ruined the play by panicking. Now Vance thinks there's bad blood between us. You need to come with me right now. We’re going to my lawyer's office to sign an affidavit clearing up the misunderstanding about the debt.""
""There is no misunderstanding,"" Megan said, looking directly into his cold blue eyes. ""I paid Vance eight months ago. Every single dollar you claimed we owed, I earned with my own hands. And you kept stealing from me.""
Rick froze. The color drained from his face entirely, leaving behind an ugly, mottled gray. For a second, he looked genuinely panicked, realizing the narrative he had carefully maintained had collapsed into dust.
""You don't know what you’re talking about,"" he hissed, his hand shooting across the counter to grab her wrist. ""You're getting in the car. Right now. You owe me four years of your life, you ungrateful little bitch, and you’re not walking away until I say you’re done.""
Before his fingers could close around her skin, a hand clamped onto Rick’s shoulder from behind.
It wasn't Moren. It was Julian Vance.
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Rick spun around, gasping, only to be shoved backward against the glass display cases. Julian stood in the doorway of the small shop, filling the space with an aura of absolute violence wrapped in tailored wool.
""I believe I told you your time at my gate had expired, Delaney,"" Julian said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper that silenced the entire room. ""Yet here you are, putting your hands on an account that does not belong to you.""
