Rory
I wasn't supposed to be in that office. I definitely wasn't supposed to be reading anything left open on the desk. But nobody had told the folder that, and it had opened itself right there in front of me like it wanted to be found.
The team's sponsorship visit to Sterling Enterprises was supposed to be simple — a tour, some photos for the athletic department newsletter, a chance for the administration to remind everyone exactly whose money kept the rink lights on. I'd trailed the group through the marble lobby and the glass-walled conference rooms feeling smaller with every floor, the specific hush of old money pressing down on me the same way it had at the fundraiser, except here it came with the added terror of knowing I might, at any moment, walk past an office with my sister's n
