Chapter 2
I didn't sleep.
How could I? Lawrence's whispered numbers kept running through my head.
At 8 AM, I called the hospital. Lawrence was stable. In recovery. Constance was with him.
Which meant their house was empty.
I drove there on autopilot. Through the streets I knew too well. Past the country club where I'd never been invited. Past the boutiques where Constance shopped for clothes I couldn't afford.
The house looked different in daylight. Less imposing. Just a house.
I used my key. The one I'd never returned after that first Thanksgiving five years ago.
The door swung open.
Silence.
I stood in the entryway. Marble under my feet. That same crystal chandelier. The same smell of expensive candles.
This house had never been mine.
First time I came here, Constance met me at the door. Looked at my shoes. "Wipe your feet, dear. That's Italian marble."
Thanksgiving, year two. She took my hand. Turned it over. "Nurse hands. So rough. Griffin, darling, get your wife some lotion."
Last Christmas. Her country club friends in the living room. Constance's voice carrying: "Such a shame Griffin didn't marry that lawyer girl. Vivienne something. From Stanford."
Five years of moments like that. Small cuts. Death by a thousand paper cuts.
And I'd smiled through all of it.
I closed the door behind me.
The library. Lawrence's study. That's where he'd want it.
The room smelled like leather and old books. His desk. His chair. The portrait of his grandfather above the fireplace.
I walked to it. Lifted the frame.
There. A small wall safe.
My hands shook as I turned the dial. Seven. Two. Nine. Nine.
Click.
The door swung open.
Inside: folders. Papers. A white envelope with my name on it.
I pulled out the envelope. Sat down on the floor. My legs wouldn't hold me anymore.
The handwriting was Lawrence's. Neat. Controlled. Like him.
I opened it.
Piper,
If you're reading this, you saved my life. Or you tried to, and I didn't make it. Either way, I need you to know some things.
I've been watching you for five years. Not in a creepy way—in a grandfather way. (I know I'm not your grandfather. But you're the closest thing to a daughter I've ever had. Certainly closer than my son has been to a son.)
I've watched how Constance treats you. How Griffin lets her. How you smile through it all, serve the dinner, clean up, and never once complain.
That Christmas three years ago, when everyone went to Aspen? You stayed. Made me soup from a can because you don't really cook. Watched old movies with me. Didn't leave even though you had better places to be.
That's when I knew. You're real. My wife isn't. My son isn't. But you? You're the real thing.
In this safe, you'll find:
- My revised will. 40% of Sterling Industries goes to you.
- Evidence of Griffin's theft. $2.3M over three years.
- Evidence of Constance's affair. And worse.
- A new prenuptial agreement. Overrides the old one.
- A check. For your student loans. I know about those. You never told anyone, but I have eyes.
Use these however you want. Or don't use them at all. Your choice.
But please, Piper. Don't let them make you small anymore.
You saved my life tonight. Let me save yours.
With respect and affection,
Lawrence
The paper blurred. I blinked. Realized I was crying.
Someone had seen it. All of it. The smiles. The effort. The trying.
Someone had noticed.
I wiped my eyes. Looked back into the safe.
Folders. Neat. Labeled.
Sterling Industries - Last Will and Testament. I opened it. Skimmed the legal language. There it was: "To Piper Sterling, 40% of all shares..."
Griffin Sterling - Financial Records. Bank statements. Transfer receipts. Money moving from company accounts to an offshore shell company. $2.3M total. All in Griffin's name.
Constance Sterling - Personal Documentation. Photos. A man I didn't recognize. Harrison, according to the note. The family's other lawyer. Medical records. Life insurance increased to $25M. Lawrence's prescription bottles—marked "discontinued" six months ago.
She'd stopped filling his heart medication.
She'd been trying to kill him.
My hands went numb.
Prenuptial Agreement - Revised. Legal language I didn't fully understand. But the summary was clear: "In the event of divorce, Piper Sterling retains 50% of all marital assets."
And at the bottom of the safe: a check.
Made out to me.
$250,000.
The exact amount of my student loans.
Down to the dollar.
I'd never told anyone that number. Not Griffin. Not my friends. It was my shame. My burden. My secret.
But Lawrence had known.
I sat there on his library floor. Surrounded by evidence. By proof. By weapons.
Five years I'd spent trying to be enough. Trying to fit into this family. Trying to earn Constance's approval. Griffin's respect.
And the whole time, the only person who'd seen me? Who'd valued me?
Was the one I'd just saved.
My phone buzzed.
I almost didn't look. But old habits die hard.
Griffin: We need to talk about the divorce. My lawyer says tomorrow at 2. Be reasonable, Piper.
Reasonable.
I read it again.
Reasonable.
Like the past five years had been reasonable. Like his mother's cruelty had been reasonable. Like him stealing $2.3M from his own father's company was reasonable.
I looked at the evidence spread around me. At the check in my hand. At Lawrence's letter.
I typed back: See you at 2.
I didn't say I'd be reasonable.
I didn't say I'd be bringing Robert Chen.
I didn't say that "reasonable" was over.
