My Husband Said Floor 4 Didn't Exist While Draining My $145,000 Savings—Until His Ex Revealed The 1912 Pact Sealed Above Our Bedroom
👉 Previous action: Agnes O’Malley revealed the 1912 tragedy of Floor 4.
Armed with Agnes’s chilling revelation, I returned to unit 3B. Julian was out, presumably meeting building inspectors about some obscure structural issue.
I walked straight to his home office desk. My eyes scanned the polished mahogany, the neat stacks of architectural plans, the awards glinting under the lamp. I remembered Julian’s strange habit of arranging his awards in a specific, almost ritualistic, order.
Behind his row of architecture awards, I felt along the wood. A faint click confirmed my suspicion: a hidden drawer.
Inside, I found a leather-bound ledger. Its pages were filled with meticulous, old-fashioned handwriting, detailing quarterly payments of exactly $145,000. The entries stretched back thirty years, long before Julian and I met.
Attached to the latest sheet was a fresh wire receipt. My restoration firm’s deposit—the very $145,000 I’d discovered missing—had been transferred to an offshore account. The corporate entity listed: “Covenant Holdings.”
Julian had funnelled my hard-earned money into a ghost account.
A handwritten note, undeniably in Julian’s familiar script, was tucked beneath the receipt. It read: “One more payment before November 1st or the ceiling falls.”
The threat wasn’t to Julian’s firm, or his family wealth. It was to the building itself. To our home. To the very structure Agnes had spoken of, held together by a century of fear and financial tribute.
I closed the drawer, my fingers tracing the cold leather of the ledger. Julian wasn’t just gaslighting me; he was sacrificing my future to appease a family nightmare.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 7 to continue the story.
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