Chapter 5 - JULIAN'S VERSION
Julian asked to speak privately.
Evelyn almost refused.
Then agreed because Adrian had spent seven months hiding something from her, and she was done letting anger decide which evidence deserved a hearing.
They used the funeral home's upstairs family room.
Julian shut the door.
Evelyn stayed standing.
“You knew Celeste.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She dated Adrian.”
“I got that far.”
Julian rubbed his forehead.
“Our father hated it.”
“Because she was poor?”
“Because she couldn't be controlled.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
“Conrad Hart's worst nightmare.”
Julian did not disagree.
“What happened when she became pregnant?”
“I was twenty-six.”
“You weren't a child.”
“No.”
“Did you help your father?”
Julian looked at the carpet.
“Yes.”
There.
No heroic denial.
Conrad told Julian Celeste wanted money.
Julian believed him.
He drove their father to one meeting.
Carried an envelope containing legal papers into another.
Later learned Conrad had arranged temporary housing for Celeste outside New York.
“Did you know she gave birth?”
“Yes.”
“Did Adrian?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him the baby died?”
“No.”
“Did you let him believe it?”
Julian looked at her.
“Yes.”
Evelyn stepped back.
“Why?”
“Because by the time I knew the child lived, Adrian had spent eight months trying to get Celeste back.”
“So?”
“Our father threatened to cut him off.”
“And?”
Julian's expression sharpened.
“You say that like being cut off meant losing a country club.”
He was right.
Conrad controlled tuition.
Adrian's housing.
Their mother's medical care.
Julian's first business loan.
Even the mortgage on their grandmother's house.
Fear had infrastructure.
It was still fear.
Not innocence.
Evelyn said:
“You chose Dad.”
“I chose not to blow up the family.”
“Same sentence people use when they're blowing up somebody else's.”
Julian took that.
Then Evelyn asked the question that mattered now.
“Did Adrian confront you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night he died.”
Evelyn went still.
“You told police you hadn't seen him that evening.”
“No. I told the responding officer I'd spoken with him that afternoon.”
“Were you at the house?”
Julian did not answer.
Evelyn's voice dropped.
“Julian.”
“Yes.”
There.
“What time?”
“About eight.”
“He collapsed after nine.”
“I left before then.”
“What did you fight about?”
“Nora.”
Evelyn stared.
Julian had learned about the DNA testing three weeks earlier.
How?
Adrian accessed a trust archive that still contained Celeste-related payments.
An automated compliance notice went to Julian as trustee.
He asked Adrian.
Adrian refused details.
Then on the night of his death, Adrian finally told him.
“He said Nora was family.”
“What kind?”
Julian looked away.
“He wasn't certain.”
“So the test?”
“Complicated.”
Again.
Evelyn's patience thinned.
Julian said Adrian and Nora shared approximately twenty-five percent of their DNA.
Not the roughly fifty percent expected between parent and child.
Evelyn stared.
“What does twenty-five mean?”
“Half sibling.”
“Or?”
“Uncle and niece.”
Silence.
Evelyn looked toward the floor below.
Nora Quinn was not Adrian's daughter.
At least not biologically.
But she was almost certainly a close Hart relative.
“Who did Adrian think her father was?”
Julian's face hardened.
“Our father.”
Conrad Hart.
Which would make Nora Adrian's half-sister.
Evelyn said:
“And you?”
“What?”
“You were twenty-five when Celeste became pregnant.”
Julian understood.
His face changed.
“No.”
“Twenty-five percent also fits you being her father.”
“I never touched Celeste.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No.”
Good.
At least he did not insult her with certainty he could not document.
Then Evelyn asked:
“What happened during your argument?”
Julian's shoulders tightened.
“Adrian accused me of helping Dad bury a child who was alive.”
“Did you?”
“I helped keep a secret.”
“You're splitting words.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“Because sometimes the words matter.”
He had left at 8:47, he claimed.
Adrian alive.
Angry.
Standing in the study.
No violence.
No collapse.
Evelyn asked:
“Why did you lie about being there?”
Julian's answer came after too long.
“Because once I knew he was dead, I knew what our argument would look like.”
“What did it look like?”
May you like
Julian met her eyes.
“Like motive.”
