THE STERLING SECRETS

Chapter 13: The Alibi

The freezing night air lashed against my face as the taxi dropped me off a quarter-mile from the Sterling Estate.

Slipping through the automated side gate using the bypassed code felt less like a triumph and more like stepping back into a beautiful trap.

My mind was a chaotic blur of Detective Miller's words.

Julian isn't the monster... he's just the one who inherited the cage.

I quietly pushed open the heavy oak doors of the manor. The sound echoed in the absolute silence of the foyer.

My heart was pounding. I needed to get back upstairs before anyone noticed I was gone. Before Julian woke up.

"Where were you?"

The voice cut through the dark like a blade.

I gasped, spinning around.

Julian was standing at the top of the grand sweeping staircase.

He wasn't wearing his tuxedo jacket. Just a dark silk shirt that was partially unbuttoned, revealing the fresh white bandages I had wrapped around his torso hours ago.

His face was pale from the residual fever. But his gray eyes burned with a terrifying, absolute fury.

He descended the stairs slowly. One step at a time. His hand gripping the banister tightly as if anchoring himself against his physical weakness.

But there was nothing weak about his presence.

The raw, possessive energy radiating off him seemed to shrink the entire room. Made the air feel thin.

"Julian, you should be in bed," I said, my voice trembling as I backed up until my shoulders hit the front door. "Your fever—"

"Do not play the concerned nurse with me, Clara," he growled.

He stepped off the last stair and closed the distance between us in a heartbeat.

He pinned me against the door. His hands slammed into the wood on either side of my head. Caging me in.

The heat radiating from his body was suffocating. A stark contrast to the freezing rain outside.

"I woke up and you were gone," he said. His voice was low and dangerous. "Your scent was in the room, but you were gone. Where did you go?"

"I... I needed some air," I lied. I looked down at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. "The house was too quiet."

Julian reached out. His fingers gripped my chin and forced my face up.

His thumb brushed against my lower lip. His touch was a volatile mix of bruising anger and desperate relief.

"You went to see him, didn't you?" he said. "You went to see Vance. You ran to your little childhood savior."

"No!" I cried, the truth slipping out before I could stop it. "I didn't see Adrian!"

Julian's eyes narrowed. "Then where—"

"I went to see Detective Miller!"

The words hung in the air between us.

Julian froze.

His fingers tightened on my chin for a fraction of a second before dropping away like I had burned him.

The furious storm in his eyes suddenly solidified into ice. Cold and sharp.

"What did you say?" he whispered.

"I found the wire transfer, Julian," I said. My heart was hammering against my ribs. "Eleanor paid him off ten years ago. I went to find out what you covered up."

I took a shaky breath.

"And he told me... he told me Arthur was going to slaughter your family. Is that true? Did you crash that car to stop him?"

Julian closed his eyes. A ragged, painful breath escaped his lips.

When he opened them, the possessive rage was gone.

Replaced by a dark, hollowing emptiness. Like looking into a void.

"My brother didn't just write a confession note because he was crazy, Clara," Julian murmured. His voice dropped into a chilling whisper.

"He was a monster. He had a list. Names. Dates. He was going to kill us all and start over."

He stepped back from me. Ran a hand through his hair. I could see him shaking.

"And tonight, by seeking out Miller, you just pulled the thread that is going to unravel us both."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Eleanor's security detail monitors Miller's building," Julian said flatly. "Cameras. Microphones. They know you were there. They have you on footage. And now they know you know."

My blood turned to ice.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

Julian looked at me. Really looked at me. And for the first time, I didn't see rage. I didn't see control.

I saw fear. For me.

"We need an alibi," he said. "And we need it now."

Before I could ask what he meant, Julian's hand slid into my hair. His fingers tangled in the strands, tilting my head back.

He leaned down. His lips brushed dangerously close to mine.

I could feel his breath. Hot and shaky against my skin.

"Starting now," he whispered against my mouth, "you are with me. And we are in love."

And then his lips brushes down on mine.

Not gentle. Not asking.

Possessive. Desperate. Like he was branding me.

Like he was telling the cameras exactly what alibi he wanted them to see.

His other hand gripped my waist, pulling me closer. I could feel how badly he was shaking. How much pain he was in.

But he didn't stop.

And as the front door camera blinked red in the corner, I realized:

We weren't just trapped in the cage anymore.

We were performing for the people who built it.