Chapter 1 - THE PRICE OF MY LEG
The doctor said I had four days to save my leg.
My father spent that afternoon buying my sister a yacht.
I was sitting on an exam table at a military clinic outside San Diego, still wearing combat fatigues from morning duty, when I called him.
My right knee was wrapped in a brace thick enough to look like body armor.
Dr. Patel stood across from me holding my MRI.
“You’ve torn the ligament again,” he said. “And there’s cartilage damage this time.”
I swallowed.
“How bad?”
“If we get you into surgery quickly, your odds are good.”
“And if we don’t?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation scared me more than the answer.
“You may never regain full stability.”
I called Dad before I could talk myself out of it.
He answered on the fifth ring.
Music blasted behind him.
Then champagne popped.
“Emily!” he yelled over the noise. “What’s up?”
“Dad, I need help.”
His voice changed immediately.
Not concerned.
Annoyed.
“How much?”
“Five thousand.”
He groaned.
“Emily…”
“The specialist can operate Thursday. Insurance covers most of it, but there’s a gap. Dad, he said if I wait—”
“This is really bad timing.”
I stared at the wall.
“What?”
“We just closed on Madison’s yacht.”
At first, I thought pain medication was messing with me.
“You bought her a yacht?”
Mom laughed in the background.
“Tell Emily not to start!”
Then my sister grabbed the phone.
Madison was twenty-nine, two years younger than me, and had never held a job longer than eight months.
“Emily, seriously?” she said. “Can you stop killing the vibe? We’re celebrating.”
“I might lose normal use of my leg.”
“Then take some Advil.”
Someone laughed.
Madison laughed with them.
I hung up.
Two days later, my little brother Jake arrived at my apartment carrying $840 in cash.
He was twenty-four, worked twelve-hour shifts at a repair shop, and still came home smelling like motor oil.
“Where did you get this?”
His eyes dropped.
“I sold Grandpa’s Snap-on tools.”
My chest tightened.
Those tools had been Jake’s dream.
Grandpa had left them to him before he died.
Jake wanted to open his own garage one day.
“You’re getting them back.”
“It’s just stuff.”
“No, Jake.”
He pushed the cash toward me.
“You need your leg more.”
Then he placed a lottery ticket on top.
“I bought it with the change.”
I almost laughed.
“Seriously?”
“Maybe God owes us one.”
The next morning, I checked the numbers.
Then checked them again.
Then again.
Every number matched.
The ticket was worth $2.4 million.
I didn’t call my parents.
I called a lawyer.
By noon, I was sitting in the downtown Los Angeles office of Daniel Reyes, an attorney whose waiting room looked more expensive than my apartment.
I slid the ticket across his desk.
“I want it claimed anonymously if possible. Through whatever legal structure works.”
Daniel nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
I leaned forward.
“I want you to investigate my parents.”
His expression sharpened.
“What exactly are we looking for?”
“Everything.”
His phone rang before he could answer.
He listened for several seconds.
Then he slowly looked at me.
“Emily…”
Something in his face made my stomach drop.
“What?”
He covered the phone.
“The yacht your parents bought for your sister?”
“Yes.”
Daniel stared directly into my eyes.
“They didn’t buy it with their money.”
I stopped breathing.
“What are you talking about?”
May you like
He turned his computer toward me.
“They bought it with yours.”
