Chapter 4 - The Ohio Betrayal Unravels
Two days later. The suburban enclave of New Albany, outside Columbus, Ohio.
Julian drove his Audi R8 down the manicured, tree-lined avenue, his knuckles white against the leather steering wheel. Beside him in the passenger seat, Eleanor sat in terrified silence, clutching her designer handbag like a shield.
Neither of them had slept in forty-eight hours. Their credit cards—which had been linked to a line of credit backed by Julian’s now-frozen corporate account—had been declined at the Four Seasons in Manhattan the previous night. Out of options, out of money, and stripped of his job, Julian had been forced to drive seven hundred miles west to the one place he believed held his salvation: his brother’s brand-new estate.
The Audi pulled up to a massive iron gate guarding a sprawling, neo-Georgian mansion sitting on three acres of lush green lawn.
“Look at this place...” Julian muttered, his voice hollow with disbelief. “It looks like a country club.”
Julian pressed the intercom button at the gate. “Ethan! Open up! It’s Julian!”
A few seconds later, the iron gates creaked open. Julian drove up the long circular driveway, parking beside a gleaming silver Porsche 911 GT3 and a luxury Range Rover.
The massive front double doors of the mansion swung open.
Ethan Vance stepped out onto the porch wearing a silk designer bathrobe, holding a glass of iced espresso. He was thirty-two, handsome in a lazy, soft way, with none of the sharp lines or hardened fatigue that Julian carried.
“Julian! Mom!” Ethan called out, walking down the stone steps with a relaxed smile. “What are you guys doing here? You didn't tell me you were driving in from New York!”
Julian stepped out of the car, his eyes sweeping over the limestone facade, the custom copper gutters, and the sparkling blue water of the resort-style pool visible around the side of the house.
“It’s a nice house, Ethan,” Julian said, his voice dangerously calm as he walked toward his younger brother. “Very custom. Very expensive.”
“Oh, thanks, man!” Ethan grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing in Julian’s eyes. “Architect took eight months on the blueprints. The interior designer just finished the master suite. Cost a fortune, but hey—you gotta live well, right?”
“Cost a fortune...” Julian repeated softly. He stepped right up into Ethan’s personal space. “Whose fortune, Ethan?”
Ethan’s easy smile faltered slightly. He took a small step back. “What do you mean?”
“Where did you get the money for this place, Ethan? Where did you get the money for the Porsche? The Range Rover? The custom pool?” Julian slammed his hand against the hood of the Porsche. “Answer me!”
Eleanor scrambled out of the car, rushing over to stand between them. “Julian, calm down! Don’t raise your voice at your brother! He has heart palpitations when he gets stressed!”
“Heart palpitations?!” Julian roared, turning on his mother with terrifying fury. “He’s been sucking my blood dry for three years while I lived like a tightfisted tyrant in front of my wife! I gave you twenty-five thousand dollars a month, Mom! Three hundred thousand dollars a year! And you gave every single dime to him!”
Ethan looked at Eleanor, then back at Julian, his eyes narrowing as he realized the gravy train had finally crashed.
“Look, Julian,” Ethan said, discarding his friendly demeanor and adopting a dismissive, arrogant posture. “Mom chose to give me that money. I didn’t steal it. She wanted her favorite son to have a good life.”
Julian felt as though someone had smashed a sledgehammer into his chest. Favorite son.
“Favorite son?” Julian whispered, staring at Eleanor. “Mom... I worked eighty hours a week. I gave up my youth, my happiness, my mental health... I compromised my marriage... all so I could make you proud. I thought you were saving that money for my future!”
“Julian, sweetie...” Eleanor stammered, looking caught and desperate. “Ethan needed it more! You’re smart, you’re successful! Ethan... Ethan is delicate! He couldn’t survive in the corporate world like you!”
“He’s a thirty-two-year-old leech!” Julian screamed. He turned back to Ethan. “I need the money back, Ethan. Right now. Clara froze everything. She took the penthouse, my job suspended me, and I’m facing lawsuit threats. You need to take out a second mortgage on this house today and transfer five hundred thousand dollars back into my account.”
Ethan let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
“Take out a mortgage?” Ethan snickered, sipping his espresso. “Bro, are you insane? I’m not taking out a mortgage on my dream house to fix your marriage problems. You’re the idiot who let a woman take control of your assets.”
“I paid for this house!” Julian lunged forward, grabbing Ethan by the collar of his silk bathrobe. “Every single brick in this place was bought with my blood!”
“Get your hands off me!” Ethan shoved Julian back hard. “You didn’t pay for shit! Mom gave me the money as a gift! Legally, it’s mine! You don’t own a single blade of grass on this property!”
Julian turned to his mother, his eyes pleading, desperate for her to stand up for him, to command Ethan to do the right thing. “Mom... tell him. Tell him to give me the money.”
Eleanor looked at Ethan’s grand mansion, then looked at Julian’s rumpled suit and broke car. She took a step backward, standing firmly beside Ethan.
“Julian... you shouldn’t be so aggressive with your brother,” Eleanor said softly, her voice devoid of the fierce maternal love she had always promised him. “Ethan built a life here. You can’t expect him to ruin his life just because your rich wife kicked you out. You’re a man. Go make more money.”
Julian stood in the driveway of the mansion he had unknowingly funded, staring at his mother and brother.
May you like
In that single, devastating second, the illusion of his entire life shattered into fine dust. The "one mother" he had sacrificed his wife for, the family bloodline he had prioritized over his unborn child—they didn't care if he lived or died. To them, he wasn't a son or a brother.
He was just a bank account that had finally run dry.
