Chapter 20
A New Horizon
The book ends in the present day. Callie is sitting in a police interrogation room or talking to a publisher as "the sole, traumatized survivor of the Blackwood Manor slaughters." She looks directly at the audience and breaks the fourth wall: everything they just read was the official statement she gave to the police. She made up Julian's inner monologues, she made up his sinister vibes, and she frames him perfectly as a dead serial killer. The final chilling image is a flashback to her at nine years old, laughing as her family home burns to the ground. She isn't a victim; she's a ghost who just inherited an empire.
The sterile scent of the interrogation room clung to me like a second skin, a stark contrast to the musty, opulent decay of Blackwood Manor. It was a smell I was growing accustomed to, a necessary perfume for the role I now played. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a flat, unforgiving glow on the chipped Formica table between us. Detective Miller, a man whose weary eyes had seen too much, leaned forward, his voice a low rumble.
"So, Ms. Hayes," he began, the familiar cadence of his questions a comforting rhythm, "you're telling us that Mr. Thorne… Julian… was systematically dismantling his life, erasing every trace of his past, and that you were his unwitting accomplice?"
I offered a small, tremulous smile, my gaze fixed on the polished surface of the table. "That's right, Detective. He was so… meticulous. Everything had to be just so. If something was out of place, even a misplaced book, he'd get this… this look. Like the world was about to end." I let my voice waver, a carefully constructed tremor that I hoped conveyed the perfect blend of fear and awe. "I was just trying to keep up, to be the good assistant he needed. I never imagined…" I trailed off, letting my eyes well up just enough to glisten.
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