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The screech of the power drill tore through the suffocating afternoon heat inside the Pine Creek garage.
Allison leaned halfway under the hood of a totaled Mustang. The toxic smell of motor oil and stale sweat clung to her skin.
Ricky, the teenage apprentice, stood three feet away. He gripped a wrench, his eyes wide as he tried to track her movements. He couldn't. Her hands were a blur of grease and precision, moving faster than his brain could process.
She grabbed a thick, tangled cluster of wires with one hand. She yanked it hard.
The dead engine coughed. A second later, it roared to life, the deep, guttural sound vibrating through the concrete floor.
"Holy shit," Ricky breathed out, stepping back. He stared at the engine like it was a ghost. It was supposed to be scrap metal.
Allison didn't smile. She didn't even blink. She tossed a filthy rag onto the hood. Her face was completely blank, her jaw set in a hard line.
On the metal workbench behind her, a cracked cell phone started vibrating violently.
The caller ID flashed a number from Aethelgard.
Allison's stomach tightened. A cold wave of disgust washed over her chest. She wiped a streak of grease from her thumb and hit the speaker button.
"Stop playing around in the dirt, Allison."
Sterling Conner's voice filled the garage. It was arrogant. Impatient. The voice of a man who thought he owned the world.
Allison let out a slow breath. She reached for the half-empty can of cold cola on the bench.
"You are to be at the Aethelgard estate tomorrow morning," Sterling ordered. "No excuses. I'm done letting you embarrass this family."
Allison hooked her finger under the tab of the can. She popped it open. The sharp hiss of carbonation echoed in the quiet garage.
"Dream on," she said. Her voice was flat. Dead.
She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Sterling wasn't used to being told no.
"You ungrateful little bitch," Sterling snarled, his voice rising. "You think you have a choice?"
Allison took a sip of the cola. The icy liquid burned down her throat. She didn't say a word.
"If you aren't standing in my foyer by tomorrow," Sterling threatened, dropping his voice into a lethal register, "I will permanently freeze your mother's trust fund. Every single cent."
The word mother hit Allison like a physical blow to the ribs.
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