MY FOSTER SISTER FAILED HER DRIVING TEST TWICE, AND SOMEHOW THE 1972 FORD PICKUP I'D SPENT NINETEEN MONTHS RESTORING BECAME HER GRADUATION PRESENT;

I shoved the ledger into my jeans and locked the passenger door just as Tyler reached the truck.

He slammed his hands against the glass.

“Open the door, Olivia!” he shouted.

Madison was terrified. She huddled against me in the driver’s seat.

“Tyler, stop!” I yelled through the glass. “What are you doing?”

“Dad sent me,” Tyler said, his eyes wild. “The dealership guy isn’t a dealer, Liv. He’s a collector. Dad owes them money, and if we don’t give them the truck and the notebook tonight, they’re going to take the house.”

I stared at my older brother.

The golden boy. The one who could do no wrong.

“You knew?” I asked. “You knew Dad stole money from Grandpa?”

Tyler looked away, his jaw clenching.

“I helped him,” Tyler whispered.

My heart shattered.

“What?”

“I helped him funnel the money,” Tyler admitted, his voice cracking. “I was failing out of college. Dad said he had an investment opportunity that would fix everything. We lost it all, Liv. All of Grandpa's retirement.”

The tow truck driver honked his horn, leaning out the window.

“Hey kid!” the driver yelled. “We taking this piece of junk or what? Boss wants his payment.”

Tyler looked back at me, tears in his eyes.

“Please, Liv. Just give me the notebook. It has the account numbers they need. If you don’t, they’re going to hurt Mom and Madison.”

I looked at Madison. She was shaking like a leaf.

“Don’t give it to him, Olivia,” she whispered. “Dad lied to us our whole lives.”

I touched the black velvet box in my pocket. Grandmother’s heirloom.

I rolled down the window exactly one inch.

“Tell the driver the truck isn't for sale,” I said.

Tyler gripped the crowbar tighter.

“Liv, I don’t want to break this window. Don't make me do this.”

“You break this window, and I start the engine and ram that tow truck,” I warned.

Tyler hesitated. He knew I’d built this engine. He knew what it could do.

Suddenly, a set of headlights turned into the alleyway behind the tow truck.

A sleek silver sedan parked diagonally, blocking the tow truck from backing out.

The driver’s door opened, and a woman stepped out in a sharp business suit.

It was Aunt Linda.

“Step away from my niece’s vehicle, Tyler,” Aunt Linda said.

Tyler spun around. “Aunt Linda, you don't understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” she snapped, walking forward with a heavy manila folder in her hands.

She stopped in front of the tow truck driver.

“Your boss is Marco Vieri’s associate, correct?” Linda asked.

The driver narrowed his eyes. “Who’s asking?”

“Linda Carter. The executor of the Carter estate.” She tossed the folder onto the hood of his truck. “You can tell your boss that David Carter has no legal authority to sell this vehicle, nor does he have access to the business accounts. The debt is invalid.”

The driver sneered. “Paperwork doesn't stop collections, lady.”

“No,” Linda said coolly. “But the FBI does.”

The driver froze.

Linda pointed to the dashcam in her sedan. “I called them ten minutes ago when Olivia’s mother called me, crying.”

The driver cursed, threw his truck into reverse, smashed into a set of garbage cans, and sped out of the alley, leaving Tyler standing alone with his crowbar.

Tyler dropped the metal bar. It clanged loudly against the asphalt.

Aunt Linda walked over to my window.

“Are you girls alright?” she asked gently.

I nodded, unlocking the doors.

“He wanted the ledger,” I said, handing it to her.

Linda took it, her expression hardening.

“Your grandfather knew David was stealing. He spent his final months documenting every single transaction.”

She looked at Tyler, who was weeping on the ground.

“But he didn't know Tyler was involved.”

Linda sighed heavily. “Come on. We’re going back to the house.”

“I’m not going back there,” I said.

“You have to,” Linda said, opening the small velvet box I had pulled from the compartment.