Chapter 3

Three days later, I rented a short-term apartment downtown.

Sophia came over to help me pack.

Six years of living, boiled down to three suitcases.

Two of them were case files and law books from Legal. My actual personal belongings—clothes, stuff that was actually mine—didn't even fill a carry-on.

"You lived here six years and it looks like you were ready to check out the whole time."

Sophia zipped up the last bag and scanned the two-thousand-square-foot penthouse.

"It was never really my home."

I dropped the spare keys into the handover box.

Two years ago, my father's investment went south. He quietly mortgaged the Long Island house to the bank.

Then the whole family moved into my apartment like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Better for Emma's art classes—city's more inspiring." That was the excuse.

I still remembered my mother, holding a roasted turkey, telling me:

"Chloe, this executive apartment is huge. It's such a waste for you to live here alone. Emma needs inspiration for her art, and the city's energy is better for that. As the older sister, you should learn to be generous. Give Emma the master bedroom as her studio. You can take the guest room."

Jack chimed in right on cue:

"Yeah, Chloe. I mean, you're at the office till midnight most nights anyway. You're basically just here to sleep. What's the difference?"

They said it so matter-of-factly. Like they had every right to take over my space.

I didn't even get to be angry. I just swallowed that bland turkey and kept my mouth shut.

"They've been feeding on you like parasites for years."

Sophia let out a cold laugh.

"Not just your paycheck—they wanted your dignity too. You did the right thing, Chloe. Cutting it clean is the only way."

My phone buzzed. A bank notification.

The firm had wired my unused vacation payout plus David's special severance. After taxes: three hundred fifty thousand.

In Manhattan, that wasn't life-changing money. But for me? Those digits meant something completely different.

No more funding my father's golf trips. No more my mother's afternoon teas. No more down payments on Emma's new cars.

This was mine. Every cent. My safety net. My fresh start.

"Money hit?"

Sophia glanced over and let out a low whistle.

"Not bad. David took care of you. At least you can take a decent break before job hunting."

"I already paid a full year's rent."

I locked the screen.

"After this is over, I'll find somewhere that's actually mine."

Sophia looked at me, something warm in her eyes.

"Now this is the Chloe Carter who used to tear opposing counsel apart in moot court. Welcome back."

We wheeled the luggage to the foyer.

The apartment was spotless. No trace I'd ever lived there.

I logged into Security's system and wiped all my fingerprint and passcode access.

From now on, this apartment only answered to the head of Security's master clearance.

The key cards in their hands? Worthless plastic.

Before leaving, I pulled a walnut music box from the back of the storage cabinet.

Jack gave it to me two Christmases ago. It had my parents' names engraved on it. Emma's. Jack's.

Not mine.

"The engraver messed up, but you get what we meant, right? We're family."

I remembered his flimsy excuse. Tossed the box straight into the trash.

"Let's go."

Sophia and I walked out of the apartment. Neither of us looked back.

The next few days were quiet.

No 3 AM conference calls. No all-night contract revisions.

Jack's emails still trickled in. Photos of their Swiss itinerary.

Emma hanging off Jack's arm, their faces inches apart. My mother smiling warmly in the background.

"Skiing in Zermatt today. Emma took a spill, but Mr. Carter caught her just in time. We had an amazing fondue dinner tonight. How's work? Don't push yourself too hard—I've got things handled here."

Handled here. Right. By keeping tabs on me so I'd stay their obedient ATM.

I still didn't reply.

I was waiting. Waiting for them to come back from the Alps, dripping with smug satisfaction.

Dragging their heavy luggage to a door that would never open for them again.

"Enjoy your last vacation."

I stared at the grey sky outside my window, my voice barely a whisper.

"Because you're about to be homeless."