My Husband Forced Me Out When His Father Struck Me at His 1864 Banquet — He Didn't Know I Secretly Owned Their Iron Dynasty
The seizure of the ironworks sent shockwaves through Washington. Silas Endicott was beside himself, his roar of outrage echoing through the social circles he had once dominated. Julian, meanwhile, had vanished from public view, a ghost haunting the city’s quieter establishments.
He contacted me through a discreet message left at Clara’s boarding house, requesting a private meeting. He stipulated a neutral location: a small, unassuming hotel on the outskirts of the city, far from prying eyes.
I went alone, armed with the knowledge of his cowardice. The hotel lobby was dimly lit, smelling of stale tobacco and old carpets. Julian sat hunched in a corner, his back to the door, a half-empty glass of whiskey on the small table before him. He looked utterly defeated.
He started speaking before I even sat down. “Eleanor, this is a disaster. Father… he’s raving. He’ll lose everything. And I… I’ll be ruined.”
“That, Julian,” I replied, my voice calm and steady, “is the consequence of his actions. And yours, for enabling him.”
He flinched, running a trembling hand through his hair. “I didn’t know the full extent! I swear it! I just… I followed his orders. He’s my father.”
“Loyalty, Julian,” I said, “is a choice. And yours has always been to the man who struck me across the face and cast me out into the street.”
He swallowed hard, avoiding my gaze. “I can help you,” he finally offered, pushing a small, leather-bound book across the table. It was Silas’s private ledger, not the official one, but one filled with his own hurried scribbles.
“Father keeps a secondary set of books,” Julian whispered, his voice barely audible. “He thinks no one knows. But I saw him make entries. This,” he tapped the ledger, “details everything. The bribes to Finch, the over-billing, even some of the falsified procurement records for the early contracts.”
My eyes flickered to the ledger, then back to his pale, desperate face. “Why are you doing this, Julian?”
“Immunity,” he blurted out, looking at me directly for the first time. “I want immunity. I can testify. I can prove everything. But I can’t be charged. I can’t be disinherited. I just… I want to be free of this, free of him.”
It was the ultimate betrayal. Julian, the dutiful son, was turning on his own father, not out of any moral conviction, but out of sheer, unadulterated cowardice and self-preservation. He would abandon Silas, condemn him to ruin, to save his own social standing and avoid the repercussions of his father’s crimes.
I picked up the ledger, its leather cool beneath my fingers. “Consider it done, Julian,” I said, the words heavy with a bitter finality. “Your testimony, coupled with this, will seal his fate. And yours will be severed from his forever.”
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