He opened the leather folder in his hands and replied, “Every asset tied to your family has been transferred to Ironcrest Holdings, including their home, business loans, and personal credit lines.”
I ran my fingers along the edge of the folder, knowing it held more than documents. It held leverage, control, and the weight of everything they had done.
“Are you sure you want to face them directly?” Calvin asked carefully. “We could send notices instead.”
“This is not business,” I answered quietly. “This is a resurrection, and they need to see the ghost.”
I packed deliberately, choosing a black dress that fit like armor and jewelry that reflected quiet power rather than excess. The only sentimental item I carried was a silver locket with a photograph of my grandmother, the only person who had ever truly cared.
That night from twelve years ago replayed in my mind, when I told them I was leaving to build something of my own. My father had calmly declared that I would be dead to them if I walked out, and my mother had simply said I was damaging the family image.
I did not know then that they would make that statement literal.