Chapter 9 - The Family Business
Marcus pulled back his umbrella slightly, letting the rain hit his sharp, tailored coat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver syringe case, flipping it open with one thumb.
"Of course I knew, Julian," Marcus said smoothly, taking a slow, measured step up the stairs toward his younger brother. "Who do you think managed the neurological suppression trials at the Oakridge facility? Arthur Vance provided the state funding and political immunity. Evelyn provided the legal cover through her firm. And I provided the medical expertise."
"Clara..." Julian choked out, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles cracked. "What did you do to Clara?!"
"Clara was a liability," Marcus replied coldly. "She found the ledger four years ago. She was going to the Federal District Attorney with evidence of our offshore medical research accounts. We couldn't kill her—her father loved her too much for that, despite her betrayal. So we declared her dead. We put her in the sub-level at Oakridge. We kept her comfortable. We used her to test the memory erasure protocol."
He looked down at Lily, who shrank back against Julian’s leg.
"She was supposed to forget everything," Marcus murmured. "Her name. Her life. You. But when she got pregnant with that second child... her neural pathways began to rebuild themselves. Motherhood is a persistent biological anomaly, Julian. It resists chemical suppression."
"You monstrous bastard," Julian hissed, taking a violent step toward his brother.
Marcus didn't flinch. He reached into his coat with his free hand and pulled out a compact 9mm pistol fitted with a suppressor, pointing it directly at Julian’s chest.
"Don't," Marcus said softly. "I love you, Julian. You're my brother. You were supposed to marry Evelyn today, consolidate the Sterling-Vance trust, and live a life of incredible luxury, completely oblivious to how the sausage is made. But you had to look at the baby's wristband."
He shifted his sightline to the pink blanket in Lily’s arms.
"Hand me the children, Julian," Marcus ordered. "You can walk back inside. Evelyn will forgive you. We will tell the media you had a brief nervous breakdown. In six months, this will all be buried."
Julian looked down at his brother’s gun. He looked at Lily’s small, muddy hand clutching his trousers.
Then he looked at the black SUV parked near the gate. The engine was idling, exhaust piping into the cold rain.
"Marcus," Julian whispered. "Do you remember what Dad taught us about high-stakes trading?"
Marcus frowned slightly, his brow furrowing beneath his wet hair. "What?"
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"Always control the leverage," Julian said.
Before Marcus could react, Julian lunged forward, throwing his weight not at Marcus, but sideways into the heavy brass emergency fire alarm lever mounted on the stone wall of the cathedral.
