Chapter 1

The moment I turned into my driveway, I knew something was wrong. A woman I' d never seen before was standing on the porch, hands on her hips, her face a mask of fury.

She stormed towards the truck as I put it in park.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she shrieked, yanking on the driver' s side door before I even had a chance to unbuckle my seatbelt.

I stared at her, confused. "Excuse me?"

"Don' t you 'excuse me,' you bitch! This is my truck! What gives you the right to just take it and drive it around?"

Her voice was sharp and grating, and it echoed in the quiet suburban street. I felt a flash of anger. Her truck? I bought this Ford F-150 with my own damn money, a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus I' d earned from my firm, all to help my brother Tom start his landscaping business.

"I' m Sarah Miller," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Tom' s sister. And this is my truck. I was just running an errand."

She let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Your truck? Oh, that' s rich. Tom gave this truck to me. It' s mine now. So you have no right to touch it without my permission."

Before I could respond, my brother Tom came jogging out of the house, a panicked look on his face. He rushed to the woman' s side, putting a comforting arm around her.

"Brittany, honey, calm down. This is my sister, Sarah. The one I told you about."

Brittany shrugged off his arm. "I don' t care who she is, Tom! She took my truck!"

I got out of the truck, slamming the door shut. The noise made both of them jump. I looked directly at Tom, my eyes demanding an explanation. He wouldn' t meet my gaze. He just kept trying to soothe his hysterical girlfriend.

"Sarah, I' m sorry," he mumbled, looking at the ground. "I was going to tell you. Brittany and I are... serious."

I couldn' t believe what I was hearing. I had supported this kid his whole life, especially after our dad died. I helped him set up his business, gave him the capital, and bought him this very truck so he could make a living. And now, he was letting this stranger scream at me, claiming my property as her own, and he wasn't saying a single word to defend me.

The situation escalated an hour later. I was in the living room trying to get my mother, Susan, to understand what had just happened when a dusty sedan screeched to a halt in front of our house. Brittany got out, followed by a man and a woman who had the same hard, greedy look in their eyes. Her parents.

They marched up to our front door and started banging on it without even waiting for an invitation.

My mom, ever the peacemaker, opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"We' re here to talk about the compensation," Brittany' s father said, pushing past my mom and into our home. His wife and Brittany followed, looking around the house like they were sizing it up for a hostile takeover. Tom trailed behind them, looking like a lost puppy.

"Compensation for what?" I asked, standing up. My voice was dangerously calm.

"For you using Brittany' s truck without permission," her mother snapped, her eyes landing on me. "We think a rental fee is in order. Say, five hundred dollars for the day."

I almost laughed. It was so absurd. "You want me to pay you five hundred dollars to drive a truck that I paid for in full?"

"It' s the principle of the matter," Brittany' s father said, his arms crossed. "And that' s not all. Tom and Brittany are getting engaged. We' re here to discuss the engagement fee."

My mom looked completely bewildered. "Engagement fee?"

"Of course," Brittany said, smirking at me. "My family has standards. We expect a gift to show that Tom' s family values me. We' ve decided on twenty-six thousand dollars."

The number hung in the air, heavy and obscene. $26,000. Not as a dowry, not for the wedding, but as a simple "engagement fee." It was extortion, plain and simple.

I looked at Tom. He stood there, silent, his head bowed. He didn' t object. He didn' t defend our family. He didn' t even seem to notice the predatory glint in his future in-laws' eyes or the way they looked down on our mother. He just stood there, a spineless accomplice to this farce.

In that moment, something inside me broke. It was the painful, chilling realization that the brother I had nurtured and protected was gone. The boy I loved had been replaced by this weak, compliant man who would let strangers walk into our home, insult his sister, and try to fleece his widowed mother.

A cold, hard resolve settled over me. I had been fighting for Tom my whole life. Now, it was time to fight for myself.

I looked from Brittany' s smug face to her parents' greedy sneers, and finally to Tom' s pathetic silence. The disappointment I felt was a physical ache in my chest.

"Get out of my house," I said, my voice low and clear.

Brittany' s father scoffed. "Not until we get what we' re owed."

I took a step forward, my eyes locked on his. "You' re owed nothing. But I promise you, if you don' t leave right now, you' re going to find out what it' s like to deal with me when I' m not being nice."

I turned my gaze to Tom, and the last shred of warmth I had for him vanished. "I might have lost my brother today," I said, my voice cutting through the tension. "But I will not lose my self-respect. You and your... family... have crossed a line."

I knew this was just the beginning. They would push, they would demand, they would threaten. But they had made a critical mistake. They had underestimated me. And they were about to find out just how big of a mistake that was.

"You want to play this game?" I said, a humorless smile on my lips. "Fine. Let's play. But be warned, I'm going to take back every single thing I ever gave him, starting with that truck."