Chapter 3

I timed my arrival at David's funeral perfectly, slipping into a back pew just as the service was beginning. I had hoped to avoid a scene, to mourn my brother in peace, but I should have known better. The moment the service ended, they were on me.

"Sarah! There you are!"

Mark's voice cut through the quiet murmurs of the other mourners. He and Emily pushed through the crowd, their faces a carefully constructed mask of concern. Emily, dressed in expensive black silk, leaned heavily on Mark's arm, her eyes red-rimmed and tearful. It was a masterful performance.

"We were so worried," Emily said, her voice a fragile whisper. "When you didn't answer your phone, I thought something terrible had happened."

"I was busy," I said, my tone flat.

"Too busy for your own brother's funeral?" Mark interjected, his voice sharp with accusation. "You show up late, you hide in the back. What is wrong with you?"

The hypocrisy was staggering. I looked from his angry face to Emily' s faux-pious expression. "Worried?" I directed my question to Emily, my voice loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Or were you busy trying to figure out how to get your hands on my brother's property before his body was even cold?"

Gasps rippled through the small crowd around us. Emily's eyes widened, and her practiced tears became real. "Mark," she sobbed, clutching his arm tighter. "How can she be so cruel? After all we've been through."

"That's enough, Sarah," Mark snapped, his arm wrapping protectively around Emily's shoulders. He glared at me, his face a thundercloud. "Look what you've done. You've upset Emily. Apologize to her. Right now."

I just stared at him. He wanted me to apologize to the woman who was actively trying to steal my inheritance, my future, and who had, in my past life, taken everything from me.

I let out a short, sharp laugh. It was a sound of pure contempt. Without another word, I turned my back on them and walked toward the front of the chapel to say a final goodbye to my brother's casket.

As I passed them, Emily leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper that only I could hear. "You'll regret this, Sarah. I'll get everything that should have been mine. And I'll make you watch."

Her words sent a chill down my spine, but I didn't let it show. I kept walking, my head held high. Let her try. This time, I was ready for her.

After the burial, I didn' t go back to the motel. I drove to the house I'd grown up in, the house that had been sitting empty since our parents' death. David had kept his old room exactly as it was, a time capsule of his teenage years, but he also used it to store his older research, the foundational work for his final invention.

A sense of dread washed over me as I pulled into the driveway. The front door was slightly ajar. My heart pounded in my chest. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The house was quiet, filled with the dusty scent of neglect. I ran up the stairs to David's room.

It was a disaster.

Drawers were pulled out, their contents dumped on the floor. The mattress was stripped, the closet ransacked. His old desk, a place he always kept meticulously organized, was a chaotic mess of papers and broken components. Someone had been here. Someone had been looking for something.

"Looking for this?"

I spun around. Mark was standing in the doorway, and in his hand, he held a small, leather-bound journal. One of David's oldest research logs.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice trembling with rage. "How could you do this? This is his room!"

"I was trying to protect you from yourself," he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. "You're not in your right mind, Sarah. You're hoarding things that could help Emily, that could help all of us. I was just trying to find the tech for your own good."

"My own good?" I spat the words at him. "By desecrating my dead brother's room? By stealing his private journals?"

"It's not stealing if it's for the family," he argued, his logic twisted and self-serving. "Emily is family now. You need to accept that."

I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw a man I didn't recognize at all. The last, tiniest flicker of hope I' d held for the boy I once loved died in that moment. He was a stranger, a thief standing in my brother's room, justifying his disgusting actions with a placid smile. He would stop at nothing. He would take everything if I let him.

"Get out," I said, my voice dangerously quiet.

He just shook his head, a condescending look on his face. "We need to talk about this, Sarah. We need to fix this."

"There is nothing left to fix," I said, my eyes burning into his. "You and I are over. Now get out of my house before I call the police."

He finally seemed to see the absolute certainty in my eyes. His expression hardened. "Fine. But you're making a huge mistake."

He tossed the journal onto the messy bed and walked out. I stood there, shaking, in the ruins of my brother's childhood room. The battle lines were drawn. And I knew this was just the beginning.