Richard snapped to attention. “Yes, Ms. Sterling.”
“Vanguard’s legal team will be in touch tomorrow morning to begin liquidation proceedings,” I said, adopting the cold, precise tone my father had taught me. “You have until Monday to clear out your executive offices. My father’s firm will absorb the functional assets. As for the Sinclair family’s personal holdings, homes, and offshore accounts…” I glanced back at Evelyn, whose face was entirely bloodless. “I suggest you start looking for a good bankruptcy attorney. Your credit is officially zero.”
Evelyn let out a high, thin wail and collapsed into the pew, burying her face in her hands. None of her high-society friends moved to comfort her. The people sitting near her were actually shifting away, as if financial ruin were a contagious disease.
I didn’t look at Marcus again.
I reached up and unpinned the crystal tiara Evelyn had mockingly given me—a 'cheap replica' she claimed was all I deserved. I let it drop. It hit the marble with a sharp, satisfying clink, rolling away to stop against the altar steps.
I took my father’s arm.
“Let’s go home, Dad,” I said.
“With pleasure,” Arthur replied.
We walked down the center aisle together. The heavy silence of the cathedral was broken only by the sharp, confident click of my heels and the sound of Marcus sobbing at the altar.
The guests in the pews parted like the Red Sea. No one whispered. No one took photos. The wealthy executives, the socialites, the people who had sneered at me for two years, all lowered their eyes as the billionaire heiress they had humiliated walked out the door.
We reached the back of the cathedral. The heavy oak doors had been left open by Chloe’s dramatic exit.
Outside, the bright afternoon sun was shining. A sleek black town car was idling at the bottom of the cathedral steps, the driver standing by the open door.
I stepped out into the sunlight and took a deep breath. The air smelled like exhaust and hot pavement, real and grounded, completely free of the cloying, suffocating scent of the church lilies.
I reached up and pulled the torn lace veil from my hair. I didn’t throw it. I just let the wind catch it, carrying it away over the stone railing, useless and discarded.
I slid into the plush leather seat of the town car, my father sliding in beside me.
As the driver closed the door, sealing out the noise of the world, I looked back at the cathedral one last time.
I had walked in as a naive girl desperate for a family's approval.
I was driving away as Maya Sterling, completely, undeniably free.
The driver put the car in gear, and we pulled away from the curb, leaving the ruins of the Sinclair empire far behind us.