“Dad’s inheritance is for my wedding,” my sister screamed from behind. I felt hands on my back, then falling. Fifteen concrete steps. My head hit every third one. the spine specialist marked “ᴀssᴀᴜʟᴛ-related vertebrae fracture.” The emergency scan went to administration. “Hospital CEO admitted with ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇs.”

Olivia pushed her chair back sharply and stood up. “This is ridiculous and I know exactly what Dad told me,” she said before grabbing her purse from the chair.

She stormed out of the office, her high heels clicking loudly against the hallway floor, and a gust of cold air followed when the door slammed shut behind her.

Jameson sighed slowly and turned toward me with quiet sympathy. “I am sorry about that.”

I stared at the folder on the desk where my father’s signature sat at the bottom of the page, written in the same steady handwriting he used his entire life. “It is not really about the money,” I said after a moment, although part of me knew that statement was not completely true. “It is about how she turns everything into a hostage situation.”

Later that afternoon I saw Olivia sitting in her silver luxury car outside the office while speaking angrily on the phone, and I did not need to hear the conversation to know she was calling our mother to complain about me.

By the time I arrived home that evening my phone had already begun vibrating constantly on the kitchen counter.

When I finally answered, Mom’s voice sounded tight and strained. “Olivia is devastated right now.”