Chapter 7 - The Address of St. Agnes
I looked Eleanor dead in the eyes, unblinking and completely untouchable.
"You gave me a black garbage bag on my thirteenth birthday," I replied, my voice dropping into an icy, steady calm. "You gave me forty-eight thousand dollars in fraudulent debt. You gave me cold nights on an iron cot. Everything I have in this world—this house, this gown, this company—I built with my own hands, my own mind, and the grace of strangers who showed me more kindness than you ever possessed."
I reached into the leather folder, pulled out a small white index card, and held it out between two fingers.
Richard looked at the card, his hands shaking as he took it.
Printed on the card was a single address:
St. Agnes Community Care & Shelter 1422 South Broad Street, Philadelphia, PA
"What is this?" Richard asked, his voice trembling.
"Sister Margaret retired five years ago, but the shelter is still operating," I said calmly. "They serve hot soup at five o'clock and provide dormitory cots for the homeless. If you arrive before sunset, they may have an empty bed for you."
"You're sending us to a homeless shelter?!" Eleanor shrieked, her voice echoing across the courtyard. "We are your parents!"
"My parents died the day that car drove away in the rain," I replied.
May you like
I turned my back on them, lifting the train of my cream gown, and walked up the marble steps into the grand foyer.
"Thomas," I commanded without looking over my shoulder. "Escort these trespassers off my property and lock the perimeter gates."
