Arthur’s lawyer was already on the phone.
My father grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.
“Stop this.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
His voice dropped.
“Give Arthur the million dollars. We can still repair this.”
I stared at him.
Even now.
Even after everything.
He still thought the answer was money.
“Daniela may spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.”
“It was an accident.”
“The crash may have been. Everything afterward wasn’t.”
He clenched his jaw.
“She is your sister.”
I stepped closer.
“And I was your daughter.”
He went silent.
“I was sixteen when you threw me outside with one leg, two crutches, and a trash bag.”
His eyes shifted.
“Do you remember?”
“We were different then.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You’re exactly the same.”
Mom arrived behind him.
“We gave you life.”
“And then spent years trying to destroy it.”
I pulled out a second folder.
Inside were the identity-theft records Sarah had preserved.
