Chapter 1 - The Rolex on the Wrong Wrist
Heavy footsteps thudded against the hardwood stairs.
Vanessa’s son, Tyler, walked into the room with a smirk that perfectly matched his mother’s.
He was wearing my father’s vintage Rolex.
The gold band hung loosely on his wrist, a glaring reminder of everything they had stolen.
Tyler stopped when he saw me standing by the open safe.
His eyes darted from the empty folders to the broken padlock I had tossed on the desk.
"You really shouldn't be in here, Claire," Tyler said, trying to sound authoritative.
He stepped forward, reaching for the Dallas County transfer papers.
I didn't move an inch.
Instead, I shifted my weight, letting the years of military training radiate from my posture.
"Take another step toward this desk, Tyler, and you'll find out exactly how I earned my rank," I said quietly.
The absolute calm in my voice made him freeze in his tracks.
Vanessa rushed into the room, her red dress swishing as she stood protectively in front of her son.
"I called the police, Claire!" she shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at my chest.
"Good," I replied, holding up my phone to show her the photos of the dog crate.
"I was just about to call them myself."
Vanessa’s face went completely pale.
She realized, in that split second, that I was not my grieving father, nor was I my fragile grandmother.
I was a soldier, and she had just handed me a war.
Grandma's hand weakly squeezed my wrist from where she sat on the leather sofa.
May you like
"The key," she whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath.
"It opens the floorboard under your father's desk."
