Too Late For Regret: The Lethal Orphan

Amara walked down the hall and pushed open the heavy oak door of the study. It was a room built to intimidate.

She ignored the plush leather sofas. She walked straight to the massive desk, pulled out the high-backed chair, and sat down.

Ten minutes later, Sterling threw the door open. His tie was pulled loose. The disgust on his face was raw and unfiltered.

He marched to the desk and slammed a piece of paper down in front of her. "Preston has a mild concussion. This is the medical bill."

Sterling stood over her, his chest heaving, but he forced his voice into a chillingly calm, hypocritical register. "Amara, we are profoundly disappointed in you. We took you in, and this is how you behave? You are becoming a liability. A dangerous, uncontrollable liability to this family's reputation."

He leaned heavily on the desk, his eyes narrowing into a faux-paternal glare. "For your own good, we have contacted a highly disciplined boarding school in Nevada. They specialize in troubled youth. We hope you will finally learn some respect and boundaries there."

Amara reached into the pocket of her blue dress. She pulled out a fresh lollipop, unwrapped it, and placed it in her mouth. She leaned back in the chair.

Sterling's face turned purple again, his carefully constructed facade of a concerned patriarch instantly shattering into raw rage. "Do you think this is a joke? They will break you in that place!"

Amara pulled the plastic stick out of her mouth. She reached into her canvas backpack on the floor and pulled out a thick manila envelope, one of the countless contingency plans-Plan B-prepared in advance by Holloway to ensure a clean extraction if her civilian cover was ever compromised.

She dumped the contents onto the oak desk and pushed the stack of papers toward him.

Sterling glanced down. His eyes locked on the bold black text at the top of the pages. Declaration of Emancipation. Severance of Familial Ties Agreement.

"Sign them," Amara said. "You sign these, and I walk out the front door. You will never see me again."

Sterling stared at her. He looked at the seventeen-year-old girl sitting in his chair, trying to find the bluff in her eyes. There was none.

Amara reached out and flipped to the last page. She tapped her finger on the signature line. "I already signed it. I am waiving the hundred-thousand-dollar severance fee you are legally required to offer. It costs you nothing to get rid of me."

Sterling's businessman instincts kicked in. His pulse slowed. A violent, emotionless daughter was bad for his company's stock prices.

Deidra burst into the study. She saw the papers on the desk. "Sign it, Sterling! Before she changes her mind! Get this monster out of our house!"

Sterling pulled a gold fountain pen from his jacket pocket. He pressed the nib to the paper and signed his name on both documents.

The second the ink dried, a heavy, invisible weight lifted off Amara's chest. Her breathing deepened.

She picked up her copy of the agreement, folded it, and shoved it into her backpack. She stood up and slung the bag over her shoulder.

Sterling watched her move with absolute efficiency. A sudden, cold knot of panic formed in his stomach. He ignored it.

"You will be eating out of dumpsters in a week," Sterling sneered.

Amara walked to the door. She stopped, her hand on the brass knob. "I hope you never live to regret what you did today."

She opened the door and walked down the stairs. She did not look at Brandie, who was hiding behind the living room sofa, smiling.

Amara pushed open the heavy front doors. A torrential downpour was hammering the estate.

Cloris ran out onto the porch holding a large black umbrella. Her eyes were red. She tried to shove a wad of cash into Amara's hand.

Amara pushed the money away. She took the umbrella. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around the housekeeper for two seconds.

Amara opened the black umbrella and stepped into the rain. The heavy doors slammed shut behind her.

She walked down the long driveway. The rain pounded against the nylon fabric of the umbrella.

At the end of the driveway, a massive, armored black SUV sat idling in the storm, waiting for her.