Chapter 1

My name is Gabrielle Johns, and people in my small Appalachian town say I have a "knack."

It' s not magic. It' s a gut feeling that, when I say it out loud, just happens to come true.

When I was a kid, I told my dad a dry creek bed felt like it had water underneath. A week later, a drilling company found a new aquifer right there.

In high school, I said the old failing diner would be "saved by a miracle." The next month, a famous food blogger' s car broke down in front of it. His review went viral, and now there' s a line out the door every weekend.

My knack is a quiet thing, a little whisper in my gut.

But it has a shadow, a darker side I never speak of. A curse of consequence.

Anyone who hurts me, or breaks something I love, gets it back. Proportional. Disastrous.

Last year, a boy from a rival high school cornered me and broke my arm. Two days later, he fell off a roof and shattered his leg in three places.

I don't control it. It just happens.

This year, the knack got louder. I was scrolling through an online horse racing forum and got a feeling about a horse named "Appalachian Gold." A 100-to-1 long shot. I wrote a post.

"This one' s going to win the Derby. It' s a sure thing."

People laughed. They called me a dumb hillbilly.

Then Appalachian Gold won the Kentucky Derby. It was the biggest upset in fifty years.

My little forum post exploded. Reporters called. But one call was different.

It was from a man named Wesley Fowler. He owned the most famous horse breeding and bourbon empire in Kentucky. An empire that, according to the whispers on the business news, was on the verge of total collapse.

He' d heard the rumors about my knack. He saw me as his last hope.

He offered me a life-changing amount of money. Enough to save our family farm, to get my dad off the road for good.

So I said yes.