Chapter 9 - On Bended Knee
Three days after the party, the rain finally stopped, leaving the city washed in a cold, brittle autumn sunlight.
I stood on the stone balcony of the Sterling family estate—a sprawling, fortress-like manor set deep in the forested hills forty miles outside the city. For seven years, I had deliberately stayed away from this house, trying to convince myself that I could belong to a simpler world. Now, surrounded by the high limestone walls and the quiet, lethal competence of my brothers’ guards, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace.
My back still ached, but the deep, burning shame that Isaac had tried to brand into my soul had completely burned away.
A black town car drove up the long gravel road leading to the Sterling gatehouse, stopping just outside the perimeter.
Caleb’s voice came over the small handheld radio resting on the balcony table. “Flora. You have a visitor at the gate. Do you want us to remove her?”
I looked down through the iron sights of the balcony.
Kneeling on the wet gravel, soaked in mud and shivering violently, was Wendy Vance.
She had walked the last two miles on foot after the cheap taxi she hired ran out of fuel. Her hair was matted, her face haggard, and the designer coat she had managed to smuggle out of the estate was torn at the seams.
“Let her through the pedestrian gate, Caleb,” I said into the radio. “I’ll see her in the courtyard.”
Five minutes later, Wendy Vance was brought into the stone courtyard by two security guards. The moment she saw me standing at the top of the grand staircase, she fell to her knees, crawling forward until her hands touched the bottom step.
“Flora... please,” she rasped, her voice cracked and hoarse from screaming and crying. “I’m begging you. Look at me. I have nothing left. They took the house. They took the cars. Arthur is dying in the prison ward, and Isaac... Isaac is being transferred to a maximum-security state facility tomorrow.”
She reached up, trying to touch the hem of my trousers, her manicured nails broken and caked with dirt.
“You have millions! Your family controls half the state! Just drop the criminal charges against Isaac. Let him come home to me. I’ll make him sign whatever you want. I’ll make him apologize to you on his knees in the town square! Just don't let them destroy my boy!”
I stood on the step, looking down at her without an ounce of anger. Anger requires emotional investment, and I had none left for this family.
“Do you remember what you told me, Wendy?” I asked, my voice carrying cleanly across the silent courtyard. “Three days ago, when Isaac had me tied to that beam. You laughed. You took a sip of champagne, and you said: *‘She came from nothing. She should be grateful we allowed her into this family at all.’*”
Wendy closed her eyes, tears streaming through the mud on her cheeks. “I was wrong! I was arrogant! Please, Flora, forgive me!”
“I am not a saint, Wendy,” I said calmly. “I do not grant absolution. And I am a Sterling. We do not forgive those who confuse our patience for subservience.”
I looked at the guard standing beside the archway.
“Escort Mrs. Vance to the main road,” I ordered quietly. “Give her fifty dollars for a bus ticket, and make sure she never sets foot on Sterling land again.”
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“Flora! No! Flora!” Wendy screamed as the guards hoisted her up, dragging her backward down the gravel driveway. Her desperate cries echoed through the pine trees until the heavy iron gates slammed shut once more, cutting her off from the world forever.
***
