The word dispatch hung in the muggy air, muffled by plastic and wet soil, but clear enough to freeze every soul on that porch.

A chill ran down my spine.

Evelyn hadn't used Marcus because of a long-lost blood dispute. She had spent twenty-two years hand-crafting a monster—manipulating a boy into believing he was an unwanted bastard, driving him to hate my grandfather, and directing his psychopathic rage directly at me.

“She built a soldier,” I whispered, realization dawning on me. “She picked me because I was weak, isolated, and rich.”

“And she lost because she mistook your silence for weakness,” Vance said, standing up and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “The court has granted full emergency custody of all Hayes family assets to you and your daughter as restitution for the damages.”

A week later, I stood in the backyard of the Hayes estate.

The rain had cleared, leaving behind a bright, crisp blue sky. The hole where they had buried me was still there, a dark brown scar on the green lawn.

I walked over to the edge, carrying a heavy cardboard box filled with Marcus’s clothes, Evelyn’s family heirlooms, and Mara’s designer shoes.

One by one, I tossed them into the pit.

I poured a gallon of lighter fluid over the pile, struck a wooden match, and threw it into the mud. Flames roared to life, consuming every trace of the family that had tried to destroy my life.

I turned my back on the fire, walking toward my car where my daughter slept peacefully in her car seat.