Chapter 4

The abandoned chemical plant on the west side was overgrown and crumbling.

I arrived at 2 p.m. I hid the micro camera on a rusted iron shelf on the second floor, with a clear view of the entire open area below. Leo was parked in a car a few miles away, piloting the drone as it circled above the plant, monitoring every movement in the area in real time.

So we have a Plan B stand by.

At exactly 3 p.m., a black Maybach pulled up in a cloud of dust.

The door opened and Jason Grayson stepped out, carrying a silver briefcase. He wore a black trench coat, his eyes dark and predatory.

I stood in the shadows on the second floor, watching him coldly.

"Amanda! I'm here! Get out here!" His voice echoed through the empty building.

I walked down the rusted iron stairs, step by step. The clang of my heels on the metal was sharp and unnerving in the silence.

"Mr. Grayson, punctual as always." I stopped about fifteen feet away.

Jason's eyes were fixed on me, burning with murderous intent. He threw the briefcase on the ground—thud—and flipped it open. Stacks of cash.

"Five million. Every dollar." He ground out the words. "Now give me the footage. Take the money and disappear."

I stared at that suitcase of cash and suddenly started laughing, so hard tears nearly came.

"Five million? Jason, are you tipping a waitress?" I stopped laughing, my eyes cutting like blades. "All that money you laundered through shell companies, the life you took to cover it up—that's worth five million to you?"

Jason's face went pale, his pupils contracting. "What… what the hell are you talking about!"

"Am I talking nonsense? Was Leo's father's death really an accident?" I stepped closer. "You were afraid he'd report you, so you ran him down on purpose. Then you used my feelings for you to make me take the blame. Jason, you're a monster."

"Shut up!" Jason, cornered, finally dropped all pretense. He raised his hand and four burly men with iron pipes rushed in from outside, surrounding me.

"Amanda, you had your chance! Did you really think I'd come alone?" Jason's face twisted into a manic grin. "Since you know too much, go keep that dead truck driver company! Beat her—leave her breathing, and find that footage!"

The four men closed in.

Then, at that exact moment, the factory doors were shoved open again.

"Stop! Jason, no!"

Amy was in her wheelchair, pushed by my mother Karen, both of them rushing in with panic written all over their faces.

"Amy? Mom? What are you two doing here?!" Jason froze.

Amy threw herself at Jason, gripping his arm desperately: "Jason, you can't kill anyone! My sister just made a mistake—please let her go!"

Karen rushed forward too, jabbing her finger in my face. "You jinx! Are you really going to drag this whole family down with you?! Just give him what he wants and walk away! If you want to destroy yourself, don't you dare take us with you!"

I stared at the scene unfolding in front of me and felt nothing but a hollow, bitter amusement.

How did they know to come here? The answer was obvious — either Amy had been following Jason, or Jason had brought them here on purpose.

Amy was putting on a show. In front of Jason, she played the role of the gentle, caring angel. But underneath it all, she couldn't wait to see me gone. And my mother — she had always been Amy's most loyal accomplice.

"Family?" I laughed coldly and stepped back. From my pocket, I pulled out a black USB drive and held it high.

All eyes locked onto that tiny device. Jason's eyes lit up with greed.

"You want it?" I looked at them, a wild smile on my lips.

"Amanda, don't do anything stupid! Give it to me!" Jason lunged forward.

"Stay back!" I shouted. Then, in front of all of them, I smashed that USB drive onto the ground.

Crack!

The USB drive exploded into pieces.

I lifted my foot and ground every last fragment into dust with my stiletto heel.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Jason froze. Amy froze. Karen froze.

A few seconds passed, Jason burst into manic laughter: "Hahaha! Amanda, you stupid bitch! You just destroyed your only evidence! Now what are you going to threaten me with?!"

He raised his hand and barked at his men: "Grab her! I'll make her wish she was dead!"

I watched his smug, ugly face, completely calm. And then I gave him a look of pure pity.

"Jason, do you really think three years in prison rotted my brain?"

I smiled, speaking slowly and clearly: "Did you really think I'd carry the original on me? It was a throwaway drive with a couple of pop songs on it."

Jason's laughter died in his throat. His face went rigid.

"Ten minutes ago, the real dashcam footage—along with all the evidence of your financial crimes—was personally handed over to the detectives at the Economic Crimes Division and the Criminal Investigation Division by my partner."