Chapter 7
The sound of knuckles rapping against the front wood sent a fresh jolt of tension through the kitchen. Julian and Claire froze, exchanging a wary glance. The house had felt isolated before, a fortress of betrayal, but that sudden knock punctured the illusion of privacy.
"Are you expecting someone?" Julian asked, his voice low and suspicious.
"No," Claire whispered, her eyes wide as she clutched the ruined lace of her wedding dress closer around her knees. "Nobody knows we're here. Everyone thinks we're at the reception venue arguing."
Julian didn't wait. He walked out of the kitchen, his bare feet padding silently down the hardwood hallway toward the entryway. The porch light cast a dim, yellow glow through the frosted glass of the front door, silhouetting a tall, unfamiliar figure standing on the welcome mat.
Julian unlocked the deadbolt with a sharp metallic clack and pulled the door open.
Standing on the porch was a middle-aged woman in a practical trench coat, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looked tired, the lines around her eyes etched deep with years of worry, but her posture was rigid and unyielding. In her hand, she held a worn leather briefcase.
"Julian Montgomery?" she asked, her voice raspy but steady.
"Yes," Julian said, blocking the doorway with his frame. "Can I help you?"
"My name is Martha Vance," the woman said, holding up a laminated ID card before slipping it back into her pocket. "I’m the lead auditor for the county relief fund. And I think you and I need to have a very long conversation about the woman currently standing in your kitchen."
Julian stepped back, pulling the door open wider. "You're the one who sent the note."
Martha walked past him into the foyer, her sensible shoes clicking sharply against the floor. She didn't look like a spy or an enemy; she looked like a tired bureaucrat who had spent months tracking a ghost through a maze of fraudulent paperwork.
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"I didn't send a note," Martha said flatly, pausing as Claire walked out of the kitchen, looking like a trapped animal cornered by a hunter. Martha’s eyes locked onto Claire with a cold, unforgiving intensity. "I sent a subpoena to her office three days ago. When she didn't show up for her deposition this morning, I followed her trail here. I didn't plan on interrupting a wedding, Mr. Montgomery, but seeing as you've already called it off, I'd say the timing couldn't be better."
Claire sank against the wall near the living room entrance, her chest heaving as the walls of her carefully constructed web finally caved in completely.
