Chapter 5 - THE MORNING AFTER
Dawn broke over the city with a cold, gray light that did nothing to warm the limestone steps of the Sinclair family estate.
I stood at the bottom of the steps in my PT gear, finishing a five-mile run that had started before the sun cleared the horizon.
The iron gates of the estate, usually swung wide open for caterers, gardeners, and business associates, were chained shut with a heavy yellow padlock bearing the seal of the federal bankruptcy court.
A single moving truck was parked awkwardly across the circular driveway.
Khloe appeared on the portico, wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, her face pale and devoid of makeup. She dragged a battered canvas suitcase behind her, the plastic wheels scraping loudly against the stone.
“The cards are all frozen,” she said, her voice flat and deadened. “Dad is inside trying to convince the bank representatives to let him keep his golf club membership.”
I stopped pacing and wiped my forehead with a towel.
“He won't keep it,” I said. “Asset liquidation covers personal club memberships under federal fraud recovery statutes.”
Khloe dropped the handle of her suitcase and looked at me, a flicker of the old bitterness returning, though it lacked any real venom now.
“Are you happy?” she asked. “Did destroying us make the military medals feel heavier?”
“I didn't destroy your family, Khloe,” I replied steadily. “Julian built a house of cards out of stolen government funds, and your father was too busy bragging about his portfolio to check the foundation.”
She looked away, staring out toward the empty street where paparazzi cars had been parked until midnight.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she asked, the question small and genuinely frightened.
“I rented a two-bedroom apartment near the base last week,” I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a set of keys. “There’s a pull-out couch. It’s not satin, and there’s no valet parking.”
Khloe stared at the keys dangling from my fingers for a long moment.
“Why?” she asked softly. “After everything I did last night? After the wine, the public humiliation—”
“Because you’re still my sister,” I said, tossing the keys through the air. She caught them clumsily with both hands. “And unlike Julian, I don’t abandon my logistics chain when things get complicated.”
She clutched the keys against her chest, looking down at the pavement where the hundred-dollar bill from the ballroom had long since been swept away by the night wind.
May you like
“Thank you, Sarah,” she murmured.
“Don't thank me yet,” I said, turning toward the running trail that led back toward the base. “ PT starts at 0530 sharp tomorrow. And bring your own running shoes.”
