Chapter 8 - The Return of the Sister
The sound of a luxury SUV crunching over the fresh gravel of the driveway announced the arrival we had been waiting for all morning.
The front doors of the mansion were opened by Vance, and a young woman in a thick winter coat and a white wool scarf practically tumbled through the threshold.
Clara.
My twenty-three-year-old sister looked exactly as she had when she left for Europe—bright-eyed, energetic, with the signature Sterling dark hair and sharp intelligence. She didn't look at the grand hallway or the security guards. Her eyes locked instantly onto Elena, who was standing beside me at the base of the grand staircase.
"Elena!" Clara cried, her bags dropping out of her hands as she sprinted across the polished floor, throwing her arms around the woman who had sacrificed her own life to keep her safe five years ago.
Elena caught her, her eyes welling with sudden, hot tears as she held my sister tightly against her chest. "Clara... oh my god, look at you... you’re so grown up."
"I missed you so much," Clara sobbed, her face buried in Elena’s shoulder. "Adrian told me everything on the phone... what Marcus did, what he threatened to do to me in Switzerland. Elena... why didn't you tell me? I would have run away, I would have hidden in the mountains, I would have done anything to stop him from hurting you."
"You were eighteen, Clara," Elena said, pulling back gently to look at her face, her fingers wiping the tears from my sister’s cheeks. "You were supposed to be studying art history and enjoying your youth, not worrying about corporate monsters. Knowing you were safe in Geneva was the only thing that kept me sane during those long nights in Pennsylvania. Your safety was worth every single sacrifice."
Clara turned to look at me, her eyes flashing with that fierce Sterling pride. "You better treat her like a queen for the rest of your life, Adrian. If you ever let her out of your sight again, I’m taking half your company myself."
"She already owns half my heart, Clara," I smiled, walking over to wrap my arms around both of them. "And as for the company... she can have the whole thing if she wants it."
"No thanks," Elena laughed, leaning her head against my chest. "I’ve had enough of corporate boards to last three lifetimes. I’m content with the apple tart project."
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The rest of the day was filled with a warmth the estate hadn't seen since my father was alive. We sat around the large dining table, sharing stories of Clara’s time in Europe, completely ignoring the television screen in the corner that was currently running a live broadcast of Marcus Vale’s formal arraignment at the federal courthouse downtown.
The anchor’s voice was turned down to a silent murmur, the images of Marcus in his orange jumpsuit fading into the background as the sound of my family’s laughter filled the room. The transition was complete. The past was a closed ledger, and the future was a clean, white canvas waiting for our colors.
