Celeste froze on the exterior threshold of her Sycamore Street apartment,

The next morning at 9:00 a.m., the conference room at Frost & Associates Legal Partners smelled of fresh coffee and polished mahogany. Avery Frost sat at the head of the long glass table, her dark blazer crisp, her expression as sharp as the legal briefs stacked neatly before her.

Celeste sat across from her, looking hollowed out, her hair tied back in a messy bun, wearing the same clothes she had slept in. Mom sat beside her, holding a cup of chamomile tea with trembling hands. I sat near the window, observing every micro-expression, every nervous twitch.

“Let’s review the terms of the settlement one final time,” Avery said, her voice smooth, commanding, and utterly devoid of sympathy. “By signing this document, Ms. Celeste Vance acknowledges full liability for the $6,450 property damage to Ms. Yara Vance’s vehicle, agrees to pay all legal fees amounting to $3,500, and formally signs over the title of her silver Honda to satisfy the initial civil restitution pool. Furthermore, she relinquishes any claim, right, or future access to the Vance family estate or any associated properties.”

Celeste stared down at the document, her jaw clenched so tightly her teeth clicked. “You’re stripping me of everything. You’re leaving me homeless.”

“You did that to yourself the moment you forged our mother’s signature and vandalized my car,” I replied evenly, not shifting an inch. “You wanted an expensive lifestyle without working for it. Now you get to pay the piper.”

“I won't sign it,” Celeste muttered, her voice dropping into a defiant hiss. “I’ll fight it in court. I’ll tell the judge you manipulated Mom—"

Avery Frost smiled, a cold, predatory curve of her lips that made Celeste instantly recoil. “You are welcome to try, Ms. Vance. But as an officer of the court, I must inform you that the moment you walk out of these doors without signing, my paralegal will hand the federal bank fraud packet to the United States Attorney’s office. You’re looking at ten to fifteen years in a federal penitentiary for interstate wire fraud and identity theft. A civil settlement is the absolute best mercy you are going to get today.”

Silence descended upon the conference room. Mom gently placed her hand over Celeste’s clenched fist. “Please, Celeste. Just sign it. I can't... I can't bear the thought of you going to prison. Let it go.”

Celeste looked around the room, realizing with crushing finality that she had alienated every single ally she ever had. Slowly, with shaking fingers, she picked up the heavy Montblanc pen Avery offered.