I Begged The Real Heiress To Take My Life Away Chapter 09

I Begged The Real Heiress To Take My Life Away Chapter 09

I thought the Sterlings would finally back off after that night.

Turns out I was way too naive.

The defining trait of old money is that it never accepts losing control of a situation.

Three mornings later, I was serving a bowl of grits to a customer at the diner.

A black Maybach pulled up outside.

Eleanor stepped out.

She wore a cream-colored coat and looked like a country club had taken a wrong turn into our diner.

Nobody said anything out loud, but every eye on that street was staring hard enough to buff the paint.

“Daisy, honey.”

First time she’d ever called me that.

My hand jerked, and I nearly sloshed grits all over the counter.

“Mrs. Sterling. What can I get you?”

She frowned.

“I’m not here for breakfast.”

The man in line behind her wasn’t having it.

“No cutting the line if you’re not buying anything.”

Eleanor went silent.

I almost burst out laughing.

Nobody at the Sterling house had the nerve to make Eleanor wait in line.

The regulars on this street had zero hesitation.

And they were completely justified about it, too.

Eleanor stood there a second, then walked to the back of the line.

Ten minutes later, she finally made it to the counter.

“Daisy, I need to talk to you.”

“Sweet grits or cheese grits?” I asked.

“I said I need to talk.”

“Minimum order’s two dollars here.”

A muscle in Eleanor’s temple twitched.

“Sweet grits.”

I rang her up.

“For here or to go?”

“Daisy Sterling.”

“Until the paperwork goes through, sure. But the grits are better hot.”

She closed her eyes briefly.

“For here.”

I scooped her a bowl of sweet grits.

She sat at the little table, back ramrod straight, like she was attending a UN summit.

A regular sat down across from her with a bowl of cheese grits and asked in a friendly voice:

“First time here, sweetie?”

Eleanor stared down at the bowl loaded with cheddar, bacon crumbles, scallions, and hot sauce like she’d

never encountered anything so confusing.

The woman said, “Sweet grits, what’s the point of those? Next time get savory, add a couple spoons of hot

sauce. Way better.”

Eleanor nodded politely.

“Thank you.”

I watched the whole thing from behind the counter, thoroughly entertained.

Ten minutes later, once the morning rush cleared, Eleanor finally walked up to me.

“Daisy. I never took your feelings seriously before.”

I froze.

Hearing her say that was more unbelievable than watching Sebastian busk on a street corner.

I didn’t respond.

She kept going.

“Your father and I have talked. You can keep living with the Doyles.”

“But your room at the house stays yours.”

“You’re still the daughter we raised.”

I looked down and wiped the table.

“What about Josie?”

Eleanor’s expression cooled slightly.

“She needs time to adjust.”

“She’s exceptionally talented. Just sensitive.”

I laughed.

“And how exactly are you planning to help her adjust?”

“More lessons?”

“Get her up to speed on Sterling house rules as fast as possible?”

Eleanor went quiet.

I knew I’d guessed right.

At the Sterling house, love worked a lot like an investment portfolio.

Assess the potential. Weigh the return. Calculate the risk.

They saw no potential in me, so they gave up.

They saw potential in Josie, so they doubled down.

But people aren’t projects.

People hurt.

People get exhausted.

People break.

I said, “Mrs. Sterling, if you actually want to be good to her, start by letting her sleep in.”

Eleanor’s brow furrowed.

“She’s already eighteen. Time is precious.”

I had nothing left to say to that.

The bell over the door jingled.

Josie walked in.

No couture this time. Just a black hoodie.

Her face looked worn out, dark circles under her eyes.

She saw Eleanor and her eyes lit up.

“Mom.”

Eleanor turned.

“What are you doing here?”

Josie twisted her sleeve in her hands.

“I wanted to see you.”

She glanced at me, then looked away fast.

“I finished going through the files you gave me last night.”

“I rewrote the analysis on the merger deal.”

“I know I rushed it last time, but this time…”

Eleanor cut her off.

“Josie, I’m not here to evaluate you today.”

Josie’s face went pale.

“So you’re here for her?”

She pointed at me.

“You came looking for Daisy Sterling again?”

Eleanor’s brow creased.

“She’s also a daughter I raised.”