Chapter 1 - The Broken Lock
The paramedics moved with a frantic urgency that completely shattered the quiet illusion of Christmas Eve.
They hoisted my chronically ill sister, Clara, onto the stretcher while her fragile body shivered violently.
Her torn coat offered absolutely no protection against the freezing air that rolled in from the open garage.
I watched in pure horror as one of the medics shouted out her rapidly dropping oxygen levels.
Dad remained leaning casually against the kitchen counter as if nothing was wrong.
He took another slow, deliberate sip from his coffee mug.
"She did this to herself to get attention," he told the young police officer standing nearby.
The officer, whose name tag read Davis, did not look convinced by the lie.
Davis looked at the heavy brass padlock resting on the kitchen floor.
Then he looked directly at the key ring still clipped securely to my father's leather belt.
"I am going to need to collect those keys as evidence, sir," Officer Davis said firmly.
Dad scoffed loudly, but he unclipped the keys and tossed them onto the counter.
I followed the paramedics out the front door, desperate to stay by Clara's side.
As they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance, I noticed something shiny sticking out of the outdoor trash can.
I reached into the freezing garbage and pulled out my father's digital tablet.
The screen was cracked, but the device was still powered on.
I slipped it into my heavy winter coat just as Dad stepped out onto the porch.
His eyes immediately darted toward the trash can, and panic flashed across his face.
He realized his device was completely missing.
I climbed into the back of the ambulance and held my sister's freezing hand.
The doors slammed shut, and the siren wailed into the dark winter night.
I pulled the tablet from my pocket, praying it was not locked.
The screen illuminated brightly, displaying the settings menu.
My father had been in such a rush to hide it that he forgot to lock the screen.
I opened his recent applications and found his email inbox.
The top message was an automated confirmation from a major life insurance company.
I clicked the message and read the horrifying details.
The beneficiary of Clara's massive medical trust had just been legally changed.
It was not changed to my father's name.
The new beneficiary was listed as an offshore corporation called Blackwood Holdings.
Before I could dig any deeper, the tablet suddenly vibrated in my hands.
May you like
A new text message appeared as a banner across the top of the screen.
"The money is secured, so make sure she does not survive the night."
