54 "I was only eight years old when I found a wallet containing enough money to save my mother and me from eviction. But when I tried to return it to a billionaire, a woman called security to throw me out—until he noticed the paper sticking from my backpack and ordered, “Lock every door. No one leaves.”

"Hold on to something!" Clara screamed, fighting to keep the minivan on the road.

The black SUV rammed us again. The passenger side window of the minivan shattered, spraying glass across the seats. Through the rain and the dark, I could see the driver of the SUV—it was the same lead thug from our apartment, his face bruised and bandaged.

"They're trying to push us off the road!" Robert shouted, trying to shield me with his body.

Ahead of us, the massive, iron gates of the Sterling Estate appeared, nestled among towering oak trees. The gates were closed, guarded by a security kiosk.

"Clara! Don't stop!" Robert yelled. "Ram the gate!"

Clara gritted her teeth, floored the gas pedal, and closed her eyes. The minivan roared, accelerating to seventy miles per hour. We slammed into the iron gates with a deafening crash of metal and breaking wood. The gates burst open, and the minivan skidded across the manicured lawn, spinning out of control before slamming into a large marble fountain.

The airbag deployed with a loud bang.

For a second, there was only the sound of hissing steam and the pouring rain.

"Clara! Sophie!" Robert groaned, trying to move.

"I'm okay," Clara coughed, pushing the deflated airbag away. She scrambled to the back, helping me out of the shattered side door.

Behind us, the black SUV had stopped at the broken gate. Three armed men stepped out, their flashlights cutting through the dark rain.

"To the house! Now!" Robert gasped, dragging his broken leg as Clara and I supported him under his arms.

We stumbled up the grand stone steps of the Sterling Mansion. Robert pressed his hand against the biometric scanner near the heavy oak doors. A green light flashed, and the lock clicked. We burst inside, slamming the heavy doors shut and locking the deadbolts just as bullets began to chip away at the stone entryway outside.

The mansion was dark and silent, smelling of old paper and history.

"The vault," Robert gasped. "It's in the basement. Under the library."

We hurried through the grand hallways, our wet sneakers leaving trails on the expensive Persian rugs. In the library, Robert pulled a hidden lever disguised as a leather-bound book. A section of the bookshelf slid back, revealing a steel staircase leading down into the earth.

We descended into the cold, concrete bunker. At the end of the corridor was a massive, circular steel door—the vault.

But as we reached the door, the lights in the basement suddenly flickered and turned on, blinding us.

Standing in front of the vault door, holding a silver revolver, was Victoria.

"I knew you'd come here, Robert," Victoria said, a triumphant smile stretching across her face. "You always were predictable. You think you're the only one who knows about the Galveston ledger?"

"Victoria," Robert said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "It's over. The police will be here. We crashed through the gates; the security silent alarm was triggered."

"Oh, Robert. I am the security," Victoria laughed. "Who do you think runs the firm that guards this estate? The police won't receive any call from this property tonight. And as for your precious ledger..."

She pointed her gun at Clara. "Open the vault, Clara. Or I will paint these concrete walls with your daughter's brains."

Clara looked at me, her eyes filled with absolute terror. She slowly stepped toward the vault door.

"Don't do it, Clara," Robert whispered. "Once she has the ledger, she’ll kill us anyway."

"She has no choice, Robert," Victoria sneered. "Now, put your hands on the scanners. Both of you."

Clara and Robert slowly approached the steel door. They placed their hands on the dual biometric scanners. A low hum echoed through the chamber, and the massive steel gears of the vault door began to turn.

With a heavy hiss of pneumatic pressure, the vault swung open. Inside, sitting on a velvet cushion in the center of the room, was a thick, leather-bound book—the Sterling Ledger.

"Beautiful," Victoria whispered, her eyes shining with greed. She stepped past us, keeping the gun aimed at my mother, and grabbed the ledger. "Finally. The entire empire is mine."

"You'll never get away with this, Victoria," Clara said.

"And who is going to stop me?" Victoria smirked, raising her gun to aim directly at Clara’s forehead. "A dead woman and a crippled old man?"

"No," a small voice said.

Victoria frowned, looking down.

I was holding Robert’s phone. The screen was lit up, showing a live-streaming application.

"I don't know much about business," I said, my voice trembling but clear. "But I know how to use social media. My mom’s friends from the diner, the people from the neighborhood... they've been watching you on this live stream for the last ten minutes. Over fifty thousand people are watching right now. And they just saw you confess to everything."

Victoria’s face drained of all color. The phone in her hand began to vibrate furiously with incoming alerts and calls.