Chapter 10 - The Sovereign Horizon
Autumn had arrived once again.
I stood on the glass terrace of my private cliffside home in Big Sur, California, watching the massive, blue waves of the Pacific Ocean crash violently against the dark granite rocks two hundred feet below.
The air was fresh, sharp, and filled with the salty mist of the sea.
Behind me, the sliding glass doors opened softly. My personal assistant walked out onto the wooden deck, carrying a single leather folder.
"The final legal closures came through from the federal court in New York this afternoon, Ms. Sterling," she reported respectfully. "Brandon Vance’s appeal for early parole was officially denied. He will serve his full ten-year sentence. Richard Vance has been transferred to a low-security prison medical facility. The Vance family estate has been completely wound down."
"Thank you, Clara," I said, taking the folder without opening it. "And our fourth-quarter earnings report?"
"Sterling Federal has recorded its highest public confidence score in forty years," Clara smiled proudly. "The board has approved the expansion of our ethical investment fund into Europe."
"Excellent. You can take the rest of the evening off."
"Goodnight, Ms. Sterling."
The doors slid shut, leaving me completely alone with the ocean and the setting sun.
I walked to the edge of the glass railing, opening the leather folder. Inside were the final, certified copies of my divorce decree, the corporate restructuring deeds, and a single, small photograph that Agent Miller had sent me last week.
It was a photograph of the master bathroom in the old Vance mansion, taken on the night everything changed.
In the photo, the mirror was broken into a thousand jagged pieces, silver glass scattered across the bloody floor, reflecting the red and blue lights of the police cruisers outside.
I looked at the photo for a long moment, remembering the girl who had stood in that room—injured, bleeding, and insulted, but completely unbowed.
I pulled a small silver lighter from my pocket, struck the flame, and held the corner of the photograph to the fire.
The paper caught quickly, curling into black ash that blew away on the cold Pacific wind, disappearing forever over the roaring ocean waves below.
I turned my face toward the setting sun, watching the sky turn brilliant shades of deep purple, gold, and burning crimson.
I was no longer Victoria Vance. I was no longer the quiet wife hiding in the shadows of a thief's house.
May you like
I was Victoria Sterling.
And the empire I held in my hands was finally, truly my own.
