Page 100 of The Refiner

She chuckles. “Not unless you just want to impress Tatum’s friends with your wealth.”

“Does that mean—”

She nods, her eyes narrowing. “—that, like you, Piper had a hero mode too?”

I smile, remembering the day the attorney handed Keys a stack of papers. Keagan had pushed the documents to me and told me to give whatever was in the stack to Tatum; but in true Piper fashion, there was a note—her last piece of advice to her little sister, along with a sizable check that Keagan didn’t know about.

Dear Keys,

Mom used to say we go through refining seasons. I used to think she was spouting poetry that sounded good but had no value.

But I was wrong.

One thing I learned through Mom and Dad’s death was that refining seasons prepare us for who we’re destined to become.

Pain is meant to teach us to enjoy the times of happiness. It serves as a reminder that we had the privilege of loving a person so much that their absence is crippling.

But most of all, the pain reminds us that we made it through the refining season.

A season that reminded you that you were strong, that you could heal, and that you could still love through the loss.

Storms will always come when you least expect them.

Use the thunder. Let it be louder than your fear.

Embrace the lightning. Let it light your way through the darkness.

Because you, my darling, are braver than anyone I’ve ever known.

You are meant for so much more. You are meant to change the world.

The question is, how far are you willing to go to prove it?

Don’t be afraid to get out of the boat, Key-Money. Ignore the noise of the wind and the waves.

Get out and swim—because I taught you how.

Make me proud.

All my love,

Your big sister.

“Piper invented hero mode,” I tell her.

“And, apparently, she had one hell of a financial advisor.” Her eyes water. “I could buy a yacht with the check she left me.”

I cock my head to the side, grinning. “But you didn’t buy a yacht.”

She shakes her head. “No, I didn’t.” Her smile couldn’t get any bigger as she elaborates. “Instead, I made two thousand copies of Ass Face’s dick pic and plastered them all over the walls with the words:Eat a dick. I quit.”

I’ve never been prouder. “So, what’s your plan now?”

She shrugs. “I don’t have a non-compete clause in my contract. All my clients are coming with me to the new company I’m opening right here in Bloomfield. I won’t be satisfied until I’mGameTales’biggest competition in the gaming industry.”

That’s my girl. There’s that fire.

“I think that’s the best business plan I’ve ever heard,” I agree.

---