Chapter 7: Thomas’s Name

The silence in the library was thick, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant drone of a passing aircraft. Julian slumped into an armchair, his face ashen, his eyes still fixed on the damning carbon receipts. The usual arrogant swagger had completely vanished.

“Arthur,” he finally managed, his voice raspy, “What do you want?”

His words, stripped of their usual pretense, were a stark admission. He wasn’t denying it anymore. The elaborate charade was over.

“I want the truth, Julian,” I said, my voice firm. “And I want this made right.”

I held up the watch again, its secret compartment still revealed. “These receipts prove you laundered eighty-five thousand dollars of family war bonds through phantom companies. You used my name, my reputation, my forged signature. This isn’t just a family dispute; it’s a federal crime during wartime.”

His head snapped up, a flicker of his old cunning returning to his eyes. “You think I didn’t plan for that, Arthur? You think I’m a fool?”

He leaned forward, a grim smile twisting his lips. “Those phantom scrap-metal companies? They’re real enough on paper. And the shipping manifests that trace the ‘reclaimed materials’ from the Garrison family trust to the defense contractors?”

He paused, letting his words hang in the air, a new layer of dread settling over me.

“They all bear a secondary signature,” he continued, his voice low and menacing. “A consignor, vouching for the authenticity of the material, a young man ‘eager to support the war effort.’ A name that ties directly to the Garrison family, but isn’t mine, nor yours.”

My blood ran cold. I knew, even before he said it. My stomach dropped.

“Thomas,” I whispered.

Julian nodded slowly, his grim smile widening. “Thomas Garrison, my diligent nephew. He always was so helpful with paperwork, wasn’t he? So keen to learn about the family business.”

He had done it. He hadn’t just used my name; he had dragged Thomas into his web of deceit. Bogus wartime sabotage allegations—the outline’s words echoed in my mind. A minor’s name on a fraudulent shipping manifest during wartime was a devastating charge, regardless of his innocence. It wouldn’t be about proof; it would be about association, about scandal.

“You monster,” I hissed, my hand instinctively clenching into a fist. “You would ruin your own nephew?”

“I would ensure I don’t go to prison, Arthur,” he retorted, his eyes flashing with a desperate resolve. “Those manifests are locked away, with copies in several banks. They only come out if I’m… inconvenienced. If I’m accused.”

He stood up, walking to the fireplace, his back to me. “Think of the scandal, Arthur. A Garrison, accused of wartime profiteering, tying a minor, a child, to bogus scrap-metal schemes. The headlines would be brutal. The military would show no mercy, not during wartime.”

He turned back, his gaze chillingly direct. “So, yes, Arthur. You have the evidence against me. But I have Thomas. His future, his reputation. A court would tear him apart, trying to ‘understand’ his involvement, regardless of how innocent it truly is. A simple signature, Arthur. A simple signature on a manifest. But during wartime? It’s a death knell for a young man’s prospects.”

He wasn’t just admitting the fraud; he was revealing a new, more sinister layer of his plan. He had used Thomas as a shield, a blackmail chip, knowing I would sacrifice everything to protect my son. The watch in my hand, once a symbol of truth, now felt like a ticking bomb. The twist wasn’t just Julian’s confession; it was the revelation that he had used my son as leverage, pulling him into the web of wartime fraud.

The room, once filled with the satisfaction of discovery, now felt suffocating. I had uncovered Julian’s betrayal, but he had countered with an unthinkable escalation. The choice was clear: justice for Julian, or protection for Thomas. It was no choice at all.

“We need to get Aunt Martha and Captain Vance-Fletcher in here,” I said, my voice tight. “Now. They need to hear this.”

Julian’s smirk vanished. He hadn’t expected me to bring in the family arbiters. He probably thought I would panic, destroy the watch, and try to negotiate with him alone.

“Don’t be foolish, Arthur,” he warned, stepping closer. “This is a family matter. No need to involve outsiders.”

“They’re family, Julian,” I corrected, my gaze unwavering. “And this fraud involves the entire Garrison name. They need to know what you’ve done. And what you’ve threatened to do to Thomas.”

He hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He clearly preferred a private negotiation, where he could control the narrative. But I wouldn’t allow it. The stakes were too high, Thomas’s future too precious. I wouldn’t fight this battle alone. Not anymore.