Chapter 6 - The Confession in the Woods
The temperature in the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees.
Outside, the sleet slammed against the massive glass windows, rattling the frames. The forest swallowed us whole, shutting out the rest of the world. No cell service. No neighbors for five miles. No witnesses.
“What is that supposed to mean, Julian?” I asked, refusing to back down. I squared my shoulders, remembering Grandma Eleanor’s words: We do not break easily.
Julian chuckled, a dry, humorless sound.
“It means, Khloe, that accidents happen in the Poconos every single weekend,” Julian said, stepping closer until he was standing just a foot away from me. I could smell his cologne mixed with wood smoke. “A tragic hiking accident. A slip near the icy edge of Lake Naomi during a late-night walk. A grieving husband returning to Philadelphia alone, heartbroken, inheriting your condo, your savings, and your memory.”
Victoria crossed her arms, watching us like a spectator at a tennis match. “She was always too smart for her own good, Julian. I told you we should have used the Hartford lawyers months ago.”
“Lawyers leave paper trails, Vick,” Julian replied, his eyes never leaving mine. “Sometimes, a clean break is the only kind that sticks.”
My heart was hammering like a jackhammer against my ribs, but an icy calmness washed over me. Every piece of the puzzle clicked into place. The balcony phone call. The locked phone. The fake trip. They hadn't brought me out here to negotiate a divorce. They had brought me out here to murder me and dress it up as an accident in the woods.
“You’re insane,” I whispered.
“I’m ambitious,” Julian corrected smoothly. He reached out, his hand shooting forward to grab my wrist with steel-like force. “Now, sign the papers, Khloe. Make this easy on yourself.”
With my free hand still buried deep in my winter coat pocket, I pulled out the small burner phone Grandma Eleanor had given me.
Before Julian could react, my thumb pressed the single pre-saved speed-dial button.
The call connected instantly.
I dropped the phone into the deep pocket of my coat, leaving the line open, letting the microphone capture every single word echoing through the rustic cabin.
“What was that?” Julian demanded, tightening his grip on my wrist until the bone ached. He slapped my coat pocket, feeling the hard rectangular shape of the device. His face twisted into sudden, ugly rage. “What did you just do?”
“I called for help,” I said, staring straight into his eyes.
Victoria gasped, lunging forward from the counter. “Julian, grab her! She’s recording!”
Julian shoved me hard.
May you like
I stumbled backward, tripping over the edge of a braided rug, crashing heavily against the stone hearth of the unlit fireplace. Pain flared up my spine, but I didn't scream. I scrambled back to my feet, pulling Grandma Eleanor’s smooth river stone from my pocket, gripping it like a weapon.
Julian lunged toward me with murder in his eyes.
