Chapter 18 - The Glass Cage
The iron gates of the coastal conservatory were overgrown with dead ivy.
Fog rolled in off the crashing Atlantic waves below, blanketing the cliffside in thick, white mist.
Arthur abandoned his car at the perimeter and approached on foot, his fingers wrapped tightly around the grip of his licensed handgun.
The conservatory was a massive Victorian dome of rusted iron and frosted glass.
Inside, the warm, humid air hit Arthur like a physical blow, heavy with the suffocating scent of thousands of blooming white roses.
"Put the gun on the stone path, Arthur," a voice called out from the center of the pavilion.
Arthur stopped.
Standing beneath the soaring glass dome was Julian, holding a silver walking cane.
Eleanor sat bound twenty feet behind him, tears cutting clean tracks through the dirt on her pale cheeks.
Lily was asleep on a nearby cushioned bench, wrapped in a heavy winter coat.
Arthur slowly bent his knees, placing his weapon on the cobblestone walkway, and kicked it backward into the foliage.
"Look at you," Julian sneered, leaning on his cane. "Still playing the noble protector. Even after you read the DNA report."
"Let them go, Julian," Arthur said, his voice deadly calm. "This is between you and me."
"It was never between you and me," Julian laughed, shaking his head. "You were always irrelevant, Arthur. Father chose me to run the empire because I had the stomach for it. You were always too weak, too soft."
"Weak?" Arthur stepped forward. "You faked your death and hid in a cellar like a rat."
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Julian's eyes flashed with sudden, vicious fury.
"I hid because the federal marshals were outside the harbor!" Julian snarled. "And while I waited for the heat to die down, you took my woman. You slept in my bed. You raised my child as your own!"
