Chapter 3

Cassie Cooper POV:

The dealership was loud, the air thick with cheap coffee and rubber.

Bryson was leaning against a matte black car with his phone up, taking pictures of it from every angle.

Effie sat at a salesman's desk, fanning herself with a glossy brochure.

My father Julian stood by the water cooler, tapping his toe against the tile.

The moment I pushed through the glass door he came at me and grabbed my arm.

"What took you so long? The finance guy has been waiting twenty minutes!"

"I had work to finish," I said, and pulled my arm free.

Bryson jogged over, tossed the keys up, and caught them, grinning.

"Hey, Cassie. You bring the checkbook? Leather seats. Premium sound."

"The down payment is eight thousand, Bryson," I said. "That's not a small amount."

Effie shot up out of her chair, her face arranging itself into an exaggerated mask of grief.

"Not a small amount?" She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. "My poor Kinsley wouldn't have blinked. She would have bought her brother this car without a second thought. Different mothers, and it shows."

"You sit in an air-conditioned office all day while my son suffers through a commute!"

"I don't have eight thousand in my checking account right now," I said.

My father snorted, loud enough that two salesmen across the showroom turned to look.

"Don't lie to us, Cassie! Your company paid out quarterly bonuses last week!"

"That money is for the wedding. Mine and Kellan's."

Before my father could start again, the showroom door swung open and Kellan walked in.

He wore a tailored sport coat and that flawless smile, and he came straight toward us.

"What's all this noise?" he asked mildly.

"Cassie's nitpicking about buying Bryson a car!" my father reported at once, finger pointed at my nose. "Says she's saving the bonus for your wedding."

Kellan looked at me, the corner of his mouth lifting into that gentle, condescending smile he had spent six years perfecting.

"Cassie. Didn't we talk about this? A wedding is just a party."

"Family stability comes first. Bryson needs a car to get to school."

Bryson clapped Kellan on the back.

"Thanks, man! You always have my back!"

Since Kinsley "died," he had never once called me sister. But brother-in-law rolled off his tongue smooth as anything.

I used to be glad when he said it. I thought it meant Bryson still counted me as his sister.

Now I understood. It was because Kellan had been living with Kinsley for three years. Kinsley and Bryson had the same mother. They were the real brother and sister.

"Tell you what," Kellan said, pulling out a platinum business card. "I'll put the eight thousand on this."

"Cassie co-signs the loan, and next week she pays me back."

Effie wiped at a tear she had produced on cue and seized Kellan's hand.

"Oh, Kellan, you're a saint! What would we do without you?"

I looked down at the loan contract the salesman had left on the desk.

Thirty-eight thousand dollars. Seven point nine percent.

The primary borrower line had my name on it. Bryson was listed only as an authorized driver.

Which meant that if the payments stopped, the collection agency would come after me, not him.

Six years ago, in that crash, she went over the guardrail for that bag, and I caught her coat through the railing. My nails broke on the concrete. I didn't let go.

She screamed that I was hurting her.

The next second her foot slipped, and she came out of my grip and went down into the water.

Later they told everyone I was the one who let go.

The day I woke up, Effie came into the ward and beat me with an umbrella until the nurses pulled her off.

Now they were handing me a pen and asking me to sign for thirty-eight thousand dollars.

I picked up the black ballpoint.

I signed my legal name on the guarantor line, dated it, and slid the contract back to the salesman.

Bryson let out a shout of triumph and grabbed the keys off the desk.

"Come on, Mom! Let's take it out on the highway!"

He ran for the door and Effie went after him, laughing.

My father turned to me, unable to hide his satisfaction.

"You could learn something from Kellan, Cassie. He knows how to treat family."

"Are you coming to lunch?" Kellan asked, not looking up from his phone.

"No," I said. "I have to get back to the office."

"Suit yourself," my father muttered. "Always has to ruin it for everyone."

The three of them walked out together, leaving me alone at the door of the showroom.

Kellan got into his own car. Bryson got into the new one, put his foot down, and the engine roared.

They pulled out toward the highway without looking back once.

I took out my phone and called a cab.

Twenty minutes later I was at Sterling Premier Properties downtown.

A broker named Donald met me in a private conference room.

"Ms. Cooper, thank you for coming on such short notice," Donald said, opening a file. "You own a two-bedroom apartment, fully paid, no mortgage. Is that correct?"

"That's right," I said. "My grandmother left it to me, before the crash."

"I have a cash buyer. He acquires residential property for offshore asset allocation. He can close within twenty-four hours, but his offer is fifteen percent under market."

"Four hundred and ten thousand in cash, wired to an escrow account offshore."

"Done." I didn't hesitate.

"Wouldn't you like to negotiate a better price?" Donald asked, surprised.

"No. I just need the transfer completed by Friday morning, and the funds cleared into my account at Barclays in London."

"Consider it done." Donald nodded with something like respect.

I walked out into the cool afternoon air.

The exit was prepared. The countdown had begun.