She stood up slowly. She straightened the lapels of her charcoal blazer. There was no shaking in her hands. There were no tears in her eyes. The emotional chaos of being a neglected daughter was gone, replaced by the freezing, absolute clarity of an actuary assessing a bankrupt firm.
For six years, they had operated Sloan House Interiors out of a massive, three-story historic brick building in the heart of downtown Savannah. They paid a “family rate” rent of two thousand dollars a month—a rate Avery had set to help her father get back on his feet after his bankruptcy. In the prime real estate market of downtown Savannah, that building should have been yielding twenty thousand dollars a month. For six years, Avery had swallowed the eighteen-thousand-dollar difference out of her own pocket.
She had personally guaranteed their massive credit lines with international furniture suppliers. Without Avery’s signature on the surety bonds, the suppliers would never have shipped a single velvet sofa or a single crystal chandelier to Richard’s showroom.
And her family viewed her as a dull bird in a nest of peacocks. They viewed her as someone who was lucky to be tolerated, completely oblivious to the fact that she owned the cage they were singing in.
Avery walked calmly toward the French doors leading to the terrace.
The family was gathered around the large wrought-iron table. Richard was pouring champagne. Chloe was feeding a strawberry to Preston. Dana was laughing. They didn’t even look up as Avery stepped onto the terrace.
“I’m leaving,” Avery said.
Her voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a scream of anger. It was soft, even, and possessed a quiet, absolute finality that cut through the conversation like a razor blade.
Richard paused, the champagne bottle hovering over a glass. He looked up, frowning. “Leaving? Breakfast is just being served, Avery. Don’t be dramatic. Sit down and eat.”
“I have work to do,” Avery replied. She looked at each of them in turn. Her mother’s bored, dismissive eyes. Her sister’s smug, arrogant sneer. Her father’s weak, cowardly posture.
