The color left Chloe’s face.
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know almost everything.”
Her fear disappeared behind anger.
“Mom was right about you.”
I said nothing.
“You’ve always been miserable.”
Then she looked deliberately at my prosthetic.
“A bitter cripple who hates everyone because life gave her less.”
Years earlier, those words might have broken me.
Now they gave me clarity.
Whatever biological connection remained between us meant nothing.
I pressed the intercom.
“Security to the executive suite.”
Chloe’s eyes widened.
Two guards entered.
As they escorted her toward the elevator, she screamed,
“I’ll destroy you!”
I watched the doors close.
Then I went to Brooklyn.
Aunt Sarah listened while I told her everything.
When I finished, she disappeared upstairs.
A few minutes later, she returned carrying an old metal lockbox.
“What’s this?”
“Insurance.”
Inside were documents she had kept for nineteen years.
Bank records.
