Part 2All the Ways We Outlived Him

That evening, I dropped her off at a high-rise brownstone apartment in Brooklyn I owned through a blind trust.

Two bedrooms, doorman at the lobby desk, keycard-access elevator, and a precinct station five minutes down the avenue. Inside, the space was aggressively utilitarian: a heavy study desk, an ergonomic monitor, kettlebell weights, and two stacks of state exam prep manuals.

The moment the front door clicked shut, Tessa spun around, snatched a canister of tactical pepper spray off the console table, and leveled the nozzle straight at my eyes.

My security detail stepped forward instantly.

I held up a hand, halting them.

Her voice hitched, raw with an exhaustion that tore right down to the bone. "What kind of sick sick game are you playing, Audrey? Do people like you honestly think that because my little brother is sick and I have zero options, I stop being human? Don't corner me. I swear to God, I have nothing left to lose."

I let out a soft snort. "Tessa, put the canister down. You’re in your second year of penal code study. You know what an aggravated assault charge does to your state trooper application. If you’ve actually got a spine, stop picking fights with me in the foyer. Ace your exams. Learn how to use the law like a blunt instrument. That’s how you protect yourself."

She lowered the canister an inch, utterly stunned.

I knew what was running through her head: the Mercer family’s pampered, sociopathic heiress talking about penal codes and state licensing.

I didn't give her room to untangle the contradiction. I tossed the silver key fob onto the marble runner.

"Come and go as you like. I don't run curfews. But you’d better keep your name at the top of the dean’s list, or my attorney will be having a very unpleasant meeting with you regarding breach of contract."

She looked at me like I was an escapee from a psychiatric ward. "What do you actually want from me?"

"A lackey needs to be useful," I replied, my tone deliberately cold. "I have no use for dead weight."

The blood drained from her cheeks, leaving her face pale and sharp.

Eleanor stepped up beside her, offering a matte-black business card. "Miss Miller, if Brooks’s associates approach you, call me immediately. If anyone hands you a document, photograph it and send it to my office. If you are followed, harassed, or confronted, dial 911 first, then me."

Satisfied, I turned toward the elevator.

Her voice caught me by the heavy oak threshold. "If my grades slip... will you pull the plug on Toby's funding?"

I paused, waving a dismissive hand into the hallway. "I’m an arrogant bitch, Tessa, not a ghoul. Get some sleep."

As the steel doors slid together, I heard the muffled, wrenching sound of her finally breaking down into tears behind the double-bolted door.

I kept my eyes fixed on the descending floor numbers.

The next morning, Tessa reported for tactical field drills at the academy.

Harrison’s operatives were right on schedule.

His senior executive assistant, a tailored vulture named Preston, was waiting by the gates of the training grounds with a manila envelope. His tone was smooth, paternalistic, and utterly unyielding: "Miss Miller. Mr. Brooks considers Sunday night an unfortunate misunderstanding. Your brother’s subsequent therapies are remarkably delicate; it would be much safer if our medical foundation oversaw his care. Sign this supplemental release, and Mr. Brooks will overlook your little rebellion with Audrey Mercer."

Tessa didn't take the envelope. She pulled out her phone, unlocked the screen, and hit record, holding the lens three inches from his nose.

Preston’s face darkened. He lunged forward to swipe the phone. "Miss Miller, don't be childish—"

My town car pulled up to the curb that very second.

Two of my private security guards cleared the distance in three strides, twisting Preston’s arm behind his back and pinning him against the chain-link fence.

I stepped out into the crisp autumn wind, plucked the manila envelope from under his arm, and flipped through the contents.

Academy withdrawal notice. Twenty-year non-disclosure agreement. Private caregiver contract. Comprehensive liability waiver.

The complete predatory package.

I slammed the papers back against Preston’s chest. "Tell Harrison if his dogs circle my property again, I won't bother with a cease-and-desist. I’ll see him in federal court."

Preston grimaced, his shoulder straining under my guard’s grip. "Miss Mercer, are you truly prepared to go to war with the Brooks family over a charity case?"

"Tell him to come down here and ask me himself," I said, glancing at the cluster of cadets who had gathered near the gate, recording every second on their devices. "And make sure you capture a clean angle of Brooks Holdings intimidating an enrolled cadet. It’ll look lovely on the evening news."

Preston’s complexion went sallow.

Behind me, Tessa stood with her shoulders squared. For the first time, she didn't shrink back.

Yet that evening, the algorithms began their work.

Her name was plastered across local forums and predatory blind items.

Cadet Trades Integrity for Society Heiress’s Handouts: How Poverty and a Sick Brother Created Wall Street’s Newest Pet.

Attached were grainy telephoto shots of her getting into my car outside the hospital.

Video clips of her entering the private Brooklyn residence.