Around noon, my attorney Denise Park entered the room carrying a folder thick enough to ruin lives.
“The buyers are fake,” she said immediately.
I almost smiled.
“Victor?”
“Victor’s cousin. Shell company created three weeks ago. The dealership transferring your car belongs to another family member. And your bank flagged a suspicious withdrawal attempt overnight.”
“Good,” I said softly. “Let them think it worked.”
That afternoon, Clara called again.
“You scared yet?” she asked.
“No.”
“You should be. Victor says we can sue you for harassment if you interfere.”
“With what?”
“My life,” she snapped. “Mom would’ve wanted me happy.”
That hurt more than the crash.
For a moment, memories hit me all at once.
Clara asleep on my chest during thunderstorms.
Clara crying after her first heartbreak.
Clara hugging me after college graduation.
Then Victor’s whisper came faintly through the speaker:
“Tell him he’s finished.”
Clara repeated it.
“You’re finished, Dad.”
And something inside me finally closed.
“No,” I replied quietly. “I’m only getting started.”