Chapter 4 - The Unraveling of Ryan SterlingThe heavy mahogany doors of Sterling Enterprises’ penthouse boardroom stood wide open, but Ryan Sterling wasn't looking at the quarterly earnings projections scrolling across the wall-mounted LED monitors.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, staring out over the glittering expanse of the Chicago River, his coffee growing ice-cold in his hand.
It had been four days since he walked out of Dr. Harrison’s office in the medical center. Four days since Grace had looked at him with that devastating, pitying expression and walked away, leaving his half-million-dollar check lying untouched on the doctor’s desk.
He hadn't proposed to Amelia Brooks. He had called her thirty minutes after leaving the hospital, muttered some vague excuse about an urgent corporate crisis, and hung up before she could demand an explanation. Rumor had it she was currently vacationing in Aspen with her mother, furious and humiliated, while the Chicago gossip columns had a field day speculating on the sudden, mysterious collapse of the city’s most high-profile engagement.
Ryan didn't care about the gossip. He didn't care about the stock prices.
His entire world had narrowed down to a three-year-old boy with his own eyes, a little girl who loved blue blankets, and a woman who had suffered in silence because he had been too blind to listen.
Knock. Knock.
The heavy office door clicked open, and Marcus Vance—Ryan’s chief of security and long-time fixer—stepped into the room, holding a thick manila folder.
“Boss,” Marcus said cautiously, keeping his voice low. “You asked me to look into Grace’s current living arrangements and the medical debt status.”
Ryan turned sharply away from the window. “Give me the details.”
Marcus opened the folder, scanning a printed sheet of paper. “It’s worse than she let on. After her mother passed away five years ago, Grace inherited a modest cottage in the western suburbs, but she had to take out a second mortgage to cover her mother’s final medical bills. When the medical bills for Leo started piling up last year, the bank initiated foreclosure proceedings.”
Ryan’s blood ran cold. “Foreclosure? When is the auction?”
“Next Tuesday,” Marcus replied grimly. “Unless she comes up with forty-two thousand dollars in arrears, the bank is seizing the property. She and the kids are going to be out on the street.”
Ryan slammed his coffee mug down onto the mahogany table, liquid splashing across the polished surface.
“Why didn't she tell me?” Ryan snarled, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why the hell didn't she come to me?” Because of your pride, a voice in the back of his head whispered. Because you taught her that asking you for help meant admitting failure.
“Pride, boss,” Marcus answered, reading his mind. “And the fact that your mother and your social circle spent two years treating her like she wasn't good enough to breathe the same air as the Sterlings. She knew exactly what kind of humiliation she’d face if she came crawling back to you for charity.”
Ryan stared down at the floor, the bitter taste of reality coating his tongue. Marcus was right. His family—led by his mother, Eleanor Sterling, who viewed every non-blue-blood as a gold-digger—had frozen Grace out from day one. And Ryan had stood by, watching it happen, telling Grace to grow a thicker skin.
“Cancel my 2:00 PM meeting with the zoning board,” Ryan ordered, grabbing his designer overcoat off the back of his chair.
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“Where are you going?” Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow.
“To the western suburbs,” Ryan said, his voice dropping into a lethal, absolute register. “It’s time I paid my ex-wife a visit. And this time, she isn't going to have a bus to jump on.”
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