The quiet afternoon inside the giant stone mansion was broken by the sound of heavy breathing. Clara sat on the polished floor of the grand study, her back pressed hard against the leg of a heavy mahogany desk. Her face was pale, and dark mascara trailed down her cheeks in wet streaks. Just a few feet away, her custom wheelchair stood completely empty, its black wheels locked in place. Clara reached out her right hand toward the center of the dark wood floor, her fingers twitching with fear. Her smartphone lay just out of reach, its screen glowing softly against the dark wood floor. She needed her medicine right now. A severe allergic reaction was closing her throat, making every single breath feel like drawing fire into her lungs. She looked up at her stepbrother Julian, who stood near the large bay window.
Clara: Julian... please... my Epipen is in the top desk drawer. I can't reach it.
Julian did not move an inch to help her. He was thirty years old, dressed in a tailored gray suit, staring down at his own phone screen. His dark eyes were wide with total panic and disbelief. His face had gone completely pale, making his sharp jawline look tight and rigid. He held the expensive smartphone in both of his shaking hands, tapping the glass screen over and over as if he could change reality by touching it. The bank notification flashed in bright white letters across his display screen. It clearly showed that all business and personal accounts linked to the family estate had been completely frozen. An eighteen million dollar trust fund was locked tight, showing a balance of zero available funds for immediate withdrawal.
Julian: What did you do? Answer me right now! What did you do to the money?
Clara: I didn't... do anything to the money... I just called... for help...
Julian: You lying little brat! Eighteen million dollars is completely gone! My wire transfer to the offshore company just got rejected by the federal central system!
Julian stepped forward aggressively, his polished Italian leather shoes making loud, heavy clicks on the hard floor. He bent over Clara, towering over her frail frame as she struggled on the ground. Clara gasped for air, clutching her own throat with both hands. She knew her peanut allergy was lethal, and the tray of small snacks Julian had brought into the room earlier had contained peanut oil. She had trusted him when he said the food was safe. Now, her vision was starting to blur at the edges, turning everything into soft shades of grey and black. She scrambled on her elbows, trying to pull herself toward the desk drawer where her emergency medication was always kept by her mother.
Julian: You don't get to touch that drawer! You ruined the biggest real estate deal of my life! Do you know how long I waited for this estate money?
Clara: Julian... I'm dying... please... just open the drawer...
Julian: My mother worked for ten years to secure this inheritance! We earned every single dollar in this house after your mother passed away! You were never meant to inherit this mansion or the family business!
Clara: My mother... built this company... with her own hands...
Julian: Your mother has been dead and buried in the ground for six months! She isn't here to save you now!
Julian reached down and grabbed Clara's phone from the floor, shoving it deep into his suit pocket. He looked down at his helpless stepsister with complete coldness in his eyes. There was no pity left in his heart, only the burning anger of losing millions of dollars in a single second. Clara squeezed her eyes shut as tears mixed with her smudged makeup. She knew her body was failing her fast. Her skin was burning, and her chest felt like a heavy stone was sitting on top of it. She tried to drag herself one inch closer to the desk, but her arms gave out, leaving her lying flat against the cold wood floor.