Chapter 14 - The Richmond Vault
One Year Later.
The sun was warm over the historic financial district of Richmond, Virginia.
I walked down the winding stone staircase into the sub-basement of the First National Bank building—a massive granite structure built in 1912 that my great-grandfather had acquired during the Great Depression.
Marcus walked beside me, carrying a heavy leather briefcase containing the updated deeds for the Sterling Trust.
The vault master, a gray-haired man who had worked for my family for thirty years, bowed his head respectfully as we approached the massive ten-ton steel vault door.
"Good afternoon, Miss Sterling," the old man said, turning two heavy brass keys in the dual-lock mechanism. "Your father said you’d be coming down today."
The vault door swung open with a smooth, silent hiss of compressed air.
Inside, row upon row of safety deposit boxes stretched into the dark, their brass faces gleaming beneath the soft yellow track lighting overhead.
I walked to Box 001—the master box sitting in the center of the far wall.
I inserted my gold key, turned it, and pulled out the heavy steel drawer.
Inside sat the antique oak cane that Julian had used in the penthouse eighteen months ago.
It wasn't broken. It had been cleaned, polished, and restored by a master woodworker in Virginia, the rich dark grain of the wood gleaming like silk beneath the light.
I reached down, my fingers wrapping around the smooth silver handle.
May you like
I didn't feel pain. I didn't feel fear. I felt the absolute, unyielding weight of the family name that had protected me when the world tried to tear me apart.
I closed the box, turned the key, and slipped it into my coat pocket.
