Chapter 6 - THE STERLING INVITATION
The flash drive sat on the mahogany desk like a tiny piece of ticking ordnance.
My father picked it up with two fingers, slipping it into his inner pocket without a second glance. Then he turned his attention back to Renata, who stood frozen in the doorway, realizing her client’s entire multi-year corporate espionage plot had just been dismantled in under an hour.
“Tell Richard Sterling his grandson’s little stunt is going to cost him every single dock, warehouse, and shipping container he still owns from here to Montreal,” my father said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “And tell him if he ever sends another spy near my daughter again, I won't use the courts. I’ll use the docks.”
Renata didn't argue. She turned on her heel and hurried down the hallway, her designer heels clicking frantically against the hardwood floor until the front door slammed behind her.
I sat in Julian’s leather chair, staring at my hands.
My ribs ached, but the pain in my chest was entirely different—hollow, burning, and absolute.
“Evie,” my father said gently, kneeling beside the chair so he was at eye level with me. “I’m sorry. I should have dug deeper when you first introduced him. I saw the signs, but I thought... I thought you were happy.”
“I wasn't happy, Dad,” I whispered, looking up at him. “I was just... tired. I thought marriage was supposed to be hard work. I thought if I just tried a little harder, if I was a little quieter, if I didn't make a scene... he would finally love me.”
“He doesn't know how to love anyone, honey,” my father said, squeezing my hand. “He’s a Sterling. They’re built out of ledgers and malice.”
Just then, my son wandered into the study, clutching his stuffed dinosaur in one hand and the heavy silver pocket watch in the other. He stopped at the edge of the Persian rug, looking up at the framed certificates and awards on the wall.
“Is this Daddy’s room?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain.
I stood up, wincing slightly as my ribs protested, and walked over to him. I knelt down, taking his small hand in mine.
“No, buddy,” I said, smoothing his dark curls away from his forehead. “This was just a room where someone pretended to live.”
May you like
I looked back at my father and my cousin Clara.
“Pack his things,” I said, my voice steadying with a sudden, unbreakable resolve. “We’re going home.”
