Chapter 7 - The Confession
That night, Julian found Clara sitting on the balcony attached to their suite, wrapped in a thick blanket, staring out at the frozen river.
He sat in the chair beside her, offering two fingers of expensive bourbon. She took it, the alcohol burning a path of warmth down her throat.
"Tell me," Julian said quietly into the dark. "Only if you want to. But I want to know."
Clara looked down at her hands. The silence stretched for so long Julian thought she wasn't going to answer. Then, the dam broke.
"My mother died when I was six," Clara whispered. "After that, it was just him. He had an image to maintain. The perfect Boston gentleman. But behind closed doors, when he lost money, when a deal went bad... he needed an outlet."
Julian’s grip on his glass tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"It started with slaps. Then it was the belt. When I turned sixteen, and I tried to run away, he brought out the riding crop." Clara’s voice was detached, reciting the horrors as if reading them from a textbook. "He paid off the doctors. He paid off my teachers. He told me that if I ever spoke a word, he would kill me, and the world would thank him for getting rid of a spoiled, ungrateful brat."
A solitary tear slipped down her cheek. "When you cornered him... when you demanded everything he had... giving you me wasn't a sacrifice for him. It was a relief. He handed you his trash."
Julian slowly set his glass down. He moved from his chair and knelt in front of her, ignoring the freezing stone beneath his knees. He took both of her trembling hands in his.
"Listen to me," Julian commanded, his voice trembling with a rage so profound it felt holy. "You are not trash. You are a survivor. You survived a monster, and you walked down that aisle with your head held high because you are the strongest person I have ever met."
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Julian brought her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles with fierce reverence.
"Arthur Sterling’s life ended the night I saw your back," Julian vowed. "I am going to tear down his legacy brick by brick. And when I am done, there will be nothing left of him but ash."
