Chapter 3

Leo's words hit me like lightning, cutting through the fog.

If it was him, it all made sense. He had every motive to investigate the truth, and every reason to hate Jason to the core.

"When and where," I asked with no hesitation.

"Tomorrow, 8 a.m. The abandoned auto shop garage south of the city."

I couldn't sleep all night after I hung up.

The next morning, I arrived at that desolate, rusting garage on the south side. The air stank of oil and rust.

Leo stepped out from behind a beat-up van. Three years had aged him—stubble, weary lines—but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk's.

He looked at me, his gaze complicated—hatred, yes, but also a trace of curiosity.

"Ms. Lowe. Brave of you to come alone," he said flatly.

"You reached out to me. That means you've found something. My enemy's enemy is my friend. Why wouldn't I come?" I held his gaze without flinching.

Leo paused, then pulled a thick stack of papers from his worn backpack and tossed them onto a rusted oil drum.

"See for yourself."

I stepped forward and opened the files. After just a few pages, my hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

Financial statements. Money trails. A few shady double contracts.

"My dad wasn't just a truck driver," Leo's voice echoed through the empty garage, heavy with suppressed rage. "He was an early logistics contractor for Jason's company. He stumbled onto evidence that Jason was using shell companies to launder money—massive commercial fraud. My dad was an honest man. He was going to report it. And on his way to the police station—that 'accident' happened."

My mind went blank.

Commercial fraud? Money laundering? Murder?!

I stared at those documents. The cold numbers and signatures slithered like vipers.

So that wasn't just a hit-and-run. Jason wasn't just afraid of jail—he was covering up a premeditated murder. And I, like a complete fool, had taken the fall and even felt grateful to him.

A wave of nausea and dread shot up from my feet.

"Jason cleaned up the scene well. Cameras were broken and no witnesses," Leo continued, his voice cracking, eyes bloodshot. "You took the blame. He played the victim's family and gave me a settlement check like he was being generous. Amanda, do you realize you helped a killer escape justice?"

"I didn't know…" I whispered, my nails digging into my palms so hard they drew blood. "I really didn't know…"

"Now you do." Leo took a breath, steadying himself. "I've been digging for three years. These documents prove financial crimes, but they're not enough for a murder conviction. But your dashcam footage can change that. If it proves he was driving, proves he hit my father on purpose—then he's done for."

I looked at Leo, the same fire igniting in my eyes.

"Okay. I'll work with you." I said each word deliberately. "We'll make him pay."

After I left Leo, I didn't go back to the motel. My prison-honed instincts told me I was being followed.

I deliberately took a winding route through a residential area, and sure enough, spotted two shady men in black trailing me. Jason was faster than I'd expected.

Using my knowledge of the area, I lost them and immediately contacted Leo. He picked me up and took me to a basement apartment he'd rented on the outskirts.

"You're safe here for now." Leo handed me a bottle of water. "What's your next move?"

I turned on my phone. Online, the tide of public opinion had already flipped completely.

Jason's PR team had moved fast. They'd not only buried the buzz from my live stream, but they'd turned it against me.

The top trending post was a video of Amy crying in a hospital bed. Pale and fragile, she said: "My sister was under a lot of stress in prison, her mental health has been unstable. She just loves Jason too much. I don't blame her—I just hope she gets the help she needs…"

Then came my mother Karen's interview. She wept on camera: "My eldest daughter has always been extreme and violent. I failed to raise her right. I'm so sorry she did this to her sister and brother-in-law…"

They'd painted me as a lovesick, mentally unstable lunatic.

The comments poured in—thousands of people cursing me. Someone even doxxed me, vowing to take matters into their own hands.

"Those animals!" Leo slammed the table.

I stared at my mother's hypocritical face on the screen, and felt nothing. Shockingly calm.

When you're past the point of caring, nothing hurts anymore.

"Let them talk." I turned off my phone, a cold smile curling at my lips. "The higher they climb, the harder they fall. Leo, I need a micro camera and a drone. Tomorrow, I'm sending Jason a special gift."

I used the burner number to text Jason:

"Tomorrow 3 p.m. Abandoned chemical plant, west side. Bring five million in cash. Come alone. Otherwise, the dashcam footage goes to every police department in the city."

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