Chapter 13 - The Ghost from New Orleans
"You're violating your bail conditions, Gavin," Julian said into the phone, his voice deceptively flat.
A dry, raspy laugh crackled through the speaker. Gavin sounded exhausted, his arrogance frayed at the edges by desperation, but there was still venom in every word.
"Bail? You think I care about an embezzlement charge? You ruined me, Julian. You had the police waiting at my condo. You froze my accounts. You gave my vice presidency to that sniveling coward Marcus. And then you took Nora."
"I didn't take anything that was yours, Gavin," Julian replied coldly. "You threw Nora away five years ago because you thought she had nothing. You made your choice."
"She was my wife!" Gavin snarled, dropping the veneer of civility. "And you paraded her around that ballroom like a trophy! You made me look like a fool in front of every power broker on the Gulf Coast. Well, let's see how high and mighty you look when the Vance family drags your spotless reputation through every tabloid from New York to New Orleans. You think Arthur Vance gives a damn about Maisie? He hates you, Julian. He’s spending two million dollars just to wipe your name off that little girl's birth certificate."
"Where did you get the codicil, Gavin?" Nora demanded, stepping closer to the phone. "Clara died six years ago. You were managing a strip mall development in Hattiesburg back then. You didn't even know Julian!"
A heavy pause hung on the line. For a second, Nora thought Gavin might hang up.
"Ask your precious husband about his old partner," Gavin sneered, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Ask him about Richard Hayes and the offshore account in Grand Cayman. Ask him why Clara’s signature looks so neat on that document. You think Julian is a saint, Nora? You think he saved you because of your pure heart? He needed your grandfather’s land because of what’s buried under the old marsh mill."
The line went dead.
Nora stood frozen on the deck. The crickets had stopped singing. The thick, salty air of the bayou felt suddenly heavy, almost suffocating.
She turned to look at Julian.
He was staring out across the dark water toward the dark silhouette of the cypress grove. His expression wasn't angry anymore. It was shadowed, haunted by a memory he had kept buried deep beneath the surface of his ordered life.
"Who is Richard Hayes, Julian?" Nora asked quietly.
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Julian lowered the phone, his fingers brushing the glass screen before slipping it into his pocket. He looked at her, his eyes filled with an ache that tore at her heart.
"Richard was Clara’s cousin," Julian said, his voice barely louder than the wind in the reeds. "And ten years ago, he was my first business partner. The man who tried to bankrupt me before Maisie was born."
