Chapter 3

We got in my car, the same car from before. The air was thick with unspoken things. I let her take the driver's seat. She turned the key, her hands trembling slightly with anticipation.

As we drove, I let my mind drift back. I thought about the client who had approved my project. It wasn't luck. I had spent six months on that proposal, working 80-hour weeks, sleeping at the office, pouring every ounce of my talent and energy into it. I anticipated every one of the client's objections, studied his company's history, even learned about his personal taste in art to inform my aesthetic choices.

The "sudden" approval wasn't sudden at all. It was the result of relentless, exhausting work.

And the down payment. My parents hadn't won the lottery. They were middle-class people. My dad worked overtime at the factory for two years. My mom took on a second job cleaning houses on weekends. They sold my grandfather's old coin collection. Every single dollar of that $100,000 was earned through their sweat and sacrifice.

Jen saw none of that. She only saw the result, the shiny surface. She believed it was magic, a gift from the universe that she was entitled to. She couldn't comprehend the concept of earning something.

"We're getting close," she said, her voice giddy. She kept checking her rearview mirror, her foot hovering over the brake.

I just stared out the window, my face a mask of calm. "Oh, really?"

Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes.

The black hearse, right on schedule, appeared behind us. There was no time for it to stop.

CRUNCH.

The impact was softer this time. Jen had engineered it perfectly, a minor fender-bender. She didn't even wait for the other driver to get out. She gunned the engine and sped away, laughing, a wild, triumphant sound.

"It worked! It worked, Gabby! I'm rich!" she screamed, pounding the dashboard.

I just watched her, a silent observer to her madness. The trap was set. Now, it was time to let her walk right into it.