“Mila! Go watch her. Make sure she doesn’t leave with company property.”

I almost smiled.

They were terrified I might steal a blueprint.

They had no idea that the documents capable of changing everything had been sitting only a few rooms away for years.

I walked toward the large oak bookshelf beside my drafting table and pushed it aside.

Behind it was a gray biometric safe mounted into the wall.

I pressed my thumb to the scanner and entered the code my late grandmother, Nana Rose, had taught me long ago.

The light turned green.

The safe opened.

There was no jewelry inside.

No stacks of cash.

Nothing Eleanor would have considered valuable.

I had never cared much about expensive objects.

What I cared about was documentation.

I removed a thick manila folder tied with red string.

Then an encrypted hard drive.

Finally, an old envelope containing a photograph of Nana Rose.

Inside the folder were original incorporation documents connected to Vanguard Architects.

There were copyright records tied to the earliest designs for Riverbend Commons, one of the company’s largest projects.

There were photographs and copies of documents showing exactly what I had signed—and what had later appeared under my name.

There were also financial statements documenting transactions that had never been properly explained to me.

One sheet of paper meant very little.

Together, they told a story.

And that story was not the one Julian’s family had been telling for years.

A hard knock hit my office door.

“Leah, open up!”

Mila.

“Mom told me to make sure you’re not taking anything!”

I unlocked the door.

The moment it opened, Mila’s eyes moved past me, searching the room.

“What took you so long?” she demanded. “Are you planning to dismantle the whole company before you leave?”

I looked at her calmly.

“Relax, Mila.”

I lifted the folder.

“What I’m taking is mine.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re being incredibly condescending.”

“I’m simply adjusting to our new relationship.”

I pulled my suitcase into the hallway.

Then I carried everything downstairs.

Eleanor was already waiting by the front entrance with her arms crossed.

“Open the suitcase.”

I placed it on the rug and unzipped it.

Inside were several professional outfits.

My personal laptop.

My passport.

Nana Rose’s photograph.

The encrypted drive.

And the folder tied with red string.

Eleanor glanced inside and scoffed.

“I thought you were hiding corporate secrets upstairs.”

She pointed toward the folder.

“Apparently it’s just a pile of useless papers.”

Mila stepped forward and reached for it.

I moved the folder away before she could touch it.

“Mila.”

She froze.

“This belongs to me.”

Her face tightened.

“You have no right to take company documents.”

“You have no right to touch my personal property.”

For the first time, hearing her name without the warmth of “sister” seemed to unsettle her.

Eleanor waved dismissively.

“Let her take her little papers.”

She smiled.

“It’s probably some pathetic diary filled with complaints about this family.”

I closed my suitcase.

“You’re half right.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

“I am taking my memories with me.”

I picked up the folder.

“They just happen to be very well documented.”

Julian finally stepped forward from the living room.

“Leah, please.”

His voice was softer now.

“Does this really have to become so hostile?”

I looked at the man I had once loved.

Strangely, I felt almost nothing.

“Julian, from now on, I think Miss Sutton would be more appropriate.”

His expression changed.

I continued.

“We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about how close we still are.”

The color faded slightly from his face.

Eleanor’s jaw tightened.

“Once you leave this house, do not imagine that you can come back asking for help.”

Before I could answer, the low sound of a car engine rolled through the driveway.

Everyone turned toward the front windows.

A sleek black sedan stopped outside.

A driver wearing a tailored suit stepped into the rain with a large umbrella.

When I opened the door, he nodded politely.

“Miss Sutton, Mr. Arthur Vance sent the car for you.”

The entire foyer went quiet.

Arthur Vance was a former university professor, a respected investor, and a ten-percent stakeholder in Vanguard Architects.

More importantly, he was one of the few people Eleanor Rhodes never dismissed.

Mila stared at me.

“Arthur Vance sent a private car for you?”

Eleanor recovered first.

She gave a cold laugh.

“So this is your grand exit? A luxury car to make everyone think you’re important?”

I ignored her.

I lifted my bag, tucked the folder against my chest, and stepped into the rain.

The brick walkway reflected the golden lights of the mansion behind me.

At the top of the steps, I stopped and looked back.

“Don’t worry, Eleanor.”

She watched me carefully.

“I won’t be coming back to ask you for a place to stay.”

Her smile returned.

“Then what exactly would you ever come back for?”

I looked beyond her.

At the grand staircase.

The enormous windows.

The elegant rooms.

The company legacy that had been built, in part, on work they preferred to pretend was never mine.