I stood in that underground vault, surrounded by four women clutching letters from their dead father, and felt something shift behind my ribs. Something that had been carefully locked away for years.
This was what family looked like. Real family. The kind that planned for the worst while hoping for better. The kind that left weapons and instructions and declarations of love for the people who'd have to carry on alone.
My father had left nothing. My mother had left a text and three hundred stolen dollars.
Richard Valentine had left his daughters an arsenal.
"We should go," Vivienne said eventually, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "These documents need to reach the lawyers. Felix's father's team is waiting."
"Then we prepare for the meeting," Sabrina added. "Mother expects to intimidate Isaiah into running. Instead, we're going to demonstrate that we're finished with her games."
