Chapter 9 - The Sterling Legacy
The Sterling manor in Connecticut became my primary residence.
I restored the gardens,
planted new flowers,
and filled the house with music.
It became a sanctuary for the foundation’s fellows.
We held retreats there,
giving women a place to rest and regroup.
I often sat on the terrace where my mother once read.
I felt her spirit in the rustle of the leaves and the sparkle of the lake.
"We made it,
Clara,"
I would whisper to the wind.
Owen joined me there most weekends.
He was semi-retired now,
leaving the day-to-day operations of his firm to a new generation.
We sat together in the twilight,
watching the fireflies dance over the lawn.
"You know,"
he said one evening,
"I still have that auction paddle."
I laughed.
"Which one?"
"The one I didn't use,"
he said.
"I didn't need a paddle to know you were the most valuable thing in that room."
"I just needed to look at you."
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
"You saved me,
Owen."
"No,"
he said,
kissing the top of my head.
"You saved yourself."
"I just provided the opening."
I looked at the house,
glowing with warmth.
I thought about the twenty-seven years I had spent in Miami.
They weren't wasted.
They were the training I needed for the life I was living now.
I had learned how to manage,
how to lead,
and how to survive.
And most importantly,
I had learned that no one can auction off your soul unless you let them.
I was Anastasia Sterling.
I was a philanthropist.
I was a partner.
And I was finally,
May you like
completely,
happy.
