Chapter 3 - Shadows over Door County
That evening, the tension in the apartment was palpable. Julian was pacing near the living room window, his phone pressed to his ear, his voice sharp and frustrated.
“I don’t care about their timeline! Tell them the cash offer is on the table, and the owner is ready to sign!” Julian snapped into the phone before abruptly hanging up as Morgan unlocked the front door.
His expression morphed instantly from aggressive impatience to warm hospitality. He rushed over to take her briefcase. “Welcome home, babe! How was work? And—wait a minute.” Julian’s eyes dropped to her collarbone. “You’re not wearing the necklace.”
Morgan forced a tired, dismissive smile, unbuttoning her coat. “Julian, I told you, I’ve been rushing all day. Besides, it’s too delicate to wear to an accounting firm where I’m sorting boxes of receipts. I put it safely in my jewelry box.”
Julian’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. The charming mask slipped for a fraction of a second, revealing the cold, calculating opportunist underneath. “You should wear it, Morgan. It’s a statement piece. Shows people you’re taken care of. By the way… speaking of investments, I had a great conversation with a real estate broker friend today regarding Door County.”
Morgan froze, her hand resting on the kitchen counter. “What about Door County?”
“Well, he has an elite buyer willing to pay four hundred and fifty thousand dollars in straight cash,” Julian said smoothly, stepping closer. “All we need is your signature on the transfer deed. I took the liberty of printing out the preliminary paperwork. Just sign here, and we can wipe out all our debts, invest in a new venture, and buy a condo in the city.”
Morgan turned slowly to face him. Her voice was ice-cold, stripped of all previous hesitation. “No.”
Julian’s smile vanished completely. The temperature in the room plummeted. “Morgan, don’t be irrational. It’s an old shack. It has sentimental value, sure, but sentimentality doesn’t pay our mortgage.”
“It’s not a shack, Julian. It’s my grandmother’s home. And my answer is no. I will never sell it.”
Julian stared at her for a long, heavy moment. The silence between them was thick with unspoken menace. Finally, he forced a dry, humorless chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. “Fine. We’ll talk about it later. But think about it, Morgan. Opportunities like this don't last forever.”
As Julian walked back to the spare room, Morgan walked to her bedroom desk and pulled out her laptop. She logged into her cloud storage and checked the security cameras she had discreetly installed in the hallway earlier that afternoon while Julian was out.
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On the screen, she watched footage from an hour earlier: Julian walking into her bedroom, picking up her jewelry box, opening it, and frantically searching through compartments. When he didn't find the gold chain, his face twisted into an expression of pure, venomous rage, slamming the lid shut before scurrying back out.
He knew she had hidden it. Or worse—he suspected she was onto him.
