A Midnight Package Delivered To My Desk Contains A Severed Hand And A 60-Minute Timer Pointing To My Son's Family
👉 Previous Decision: You chose to intercept Julian in the parking garage to demand an honest explanation father-to-son.
I waited in the dim light of the precinct parking garage. Julian emerged, walking swiftly toward his sedan, Clara’s attorneys already gone. I stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, blocking his path.
“Julian,” I said, my voice raw. “What are you doing? Why are you lying?”
He didn’t flinch. No fear, no surprise. He simply looked at me, his eyes cold and distant, like Clara’s.
“I know all about it, Dad,” Julian said, his voice flat. “Your little adventure as a DeLuca enforcer in the nineties. The dirty money. The bodies. Everything.”
My blood ran cold. He knew.
“I won’t let your buried past ruin my future,” Julian continued, his gaze unwavering. “I signed over those commercial properties to Clara because she understands how this city works. How the *family* works. You tried to fight it, to bury it. But some things never die.”
He slipped past me, opened his car door, and slid inside. The engine hummed to life. My son, the spitting image of me in his youth, drove away, leaving me standing alone in the exhaust fumes, my legacy shattered.
➡️ Read Chapter 14 to continue the story
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