Chapter 5 - The Dawn
At 4:15 AM, the storm broke, leaving behind a cold, relentless drizzle.
I stood on the covered portico of the grand estate, wrapped in a heavy cashmere cardigan, holding a mug of black coffee. The amber lights of the driveway illuminated the scene below me like a stage play.
Brad and Barbara were standing in the rain.
They had no luggage. The Louis Vuitton trunks belonged to the company. Instead, the security guards had provided them with heavy-duty black trash bags. Brad was clutching two bags filled with his custom suits, his hair plastered to his forehead, his face pale and contorted in absolute ruin.
Barbara was shivering in her silk robe, trying to hold a raincoat over her head. She looked small. Stripped of her country club armor, stripped of my money, she was just a cruel, old woman standing in the wet gravel.
"Elena, please," Brad begged, his voice cracking, looking up at me from the bottom of the stone steps. The arrogance was entirely gone, replaced by the pathetic, desperate whimpering of a man who realized he had nothing. "I have no money. The bank cards are declining. We can't even get a hotel. Please, just let us stay in the guest house until morning."
"The guest house is for guests, Brad," I said softly, taking a sip of the warm coffee. "You are an intruder."
"Where are we supposed to go?" Barbara cried, tears streaming down her face, ruining her makeup. "You can't just leave us on the street!"
"You're resourceful, Barbara," I replied. "Call one of your friends from the club. I'm sure they'd love to hear the truth about the Sterling fortune."
I nodded to the security guards.
"Escort them off the property. Ensure the gates lock behind them."
I turned my back before they could speak another word. I walked back into the grand foyer, the massive oak doors swinging shut behind me with a heavy, satisfying thud. The lock clicked into place, echoing through the high ceilings.
I walked upstairs, past the quiet, expensive rooms, and entered the master suite.
May you like
The white rug was still there, the single drop of blood a permanent reminder of the price I had paid for my freedom. I didn't clean it up. I walked past it, climbed into the center of the massive bed, pulled the heavy duvet over my shoulders, and closed my eyes.
For the first time in six years, the house was entirely mine. And I slept perfectly.
