Chapter 2 - The File in the Glovebox
Logan showed me what my family had been planning behind my back.
I locked the garage after they left.
Then I stood beside the Charger for nearly five minutes without touching it.
The car had always been the safest thing in my life.
Now even looking at it made my stomach hurt.
Logan hadn't gone far.
He was sitting in his car across the street.
Eventually, I walked over.
“You said your father wanted something bigger.”
He nodded.
“My father is considering buying into a private restoration company.”
I crossed my arms.
“And?”
“He thought Ava's family owned one.”
I stared at him.
“They don't.”
“I know.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw.
“That is what concerns me.”
“Why?”
“Because my father doesn't invest based on someone's smile.”
“Then what does he invest based on?”
“Assets.”
The word landed heavily.
“What assets?”
He looked at my house.
“The Charger.”
I shook my head.
“It's one car.”
“Not to my father.”
Logan unlocked his phone.
“My father saw the restoration posts months ago. He tracked the work through the forum.”
He turned the screen toward me.
The posts were mine.
My username.
My build updates.
The exact photographs.
“You knew it was me?”
“I suspected.”
“And Ava?”
“She knew exactly who you were.”
I went still.
“What do you mean?”
“She started following me after she found out my father was interested in investing in Colorado.”
My chest tightened.
“Did she know about the Charger?”
“Yes.”
“Then she didn't date you because she liked you.”
Logan's expression darkened.
“I don't know what she started this relationship for.”
I looked toward my garage.
“I think I do.”
He followed my gaze.
“Show me the car.”
“What?”
“The car.”
We went back inside.
I opened the driver's door.
Logan crouched beside the front wheel.
He inspected the brake assembly.
“Did you work on this recently?”
“Two days ago.”
He frowned.
“Did you leave the garage unlocked?”
“No.”
He stood.
“Then something doesn't add up.”
“What?”
He pointed to the tire.
“There are fresh marks around the lug nuts.”
I stared.
“I changed those yesterday.”
“For what?”
“Nothing.”
“Then someone removed them.”
My blood ran cold.
I grabbed a flashlight.
We checked all four wheels.
The front passenger side had tool marks.
Fresh ones.
Someone had loosened the lug nuts and retightened them.
“Why would someone do that?”
“To make the car dangerous.”
I looked at him.
“Are you saying someone tried to sabotage it?”
“Yes.”
My hands became cold.
I reached into the glovebox.
Then stopped.
A brown envelope sat inside.
I didn't recognize it.
I pulled it out.
My name was written on the front.
WILLOW CARTER
Inside was a photocopy of my vehicle title.
Another document.
A valuation report.
A third.
A contract.
I unfolded it.
My heart stopped.
The title read:
Vehicle Transfer and Display Agreement.
My name was at the bottom.
The signature looked like mine.
But I had never signed it.
Logan read over my shoulder.
“This transfers temporary custody of the Charger to Carter Holdings.”
My father's company.
I turned the page.
The agreement had been notarized.
Date.
Signature.
Notary seal.
Everything.
“How?”
Logan pointed to the signature.
“Forgery.”
I stared at it.
Then another detail caught my attention.
There was a second page.
An authorization clause.
It stated that Carter Holdings could use the vehicle as collateral for a short-term credit facility.
I felt dizzy.
“They're using my car to secure a loan.”
Logan nodded.
“That would be my guess.”
I sat down on the garage floor.
All those years.
All those favors.
All the times Dad told me I was useful.
Maybe he had always understood exactly how useful I was.
Not as a daughter.
As an asset.
Logan crouched beside me.
“Willow.”
I looked up.
“There is more.”
He pointed at the date.
The agreement had been signed twelve days ago.
“Twelve days ago,” I repeated.
“Right before Ava told us Thanksgiving was important.”
I stared at him.
Then something else hit me.
“She needed me gone.”
“Why?”
“So nobody would ask where the car came from.”
Logan nodded.
“And because your garage would be empty.”
My pulse raced.
He pointed to the contract.
“There's a lender named Meridian Capital.”
I recognized the company.
My father had mentioned it once.
I thought they were a property lender.
“What does the loan have to do with Ava?”
Logan looked at me.
“She told my father her family was launching a luxury automotive division.”
My mouth went dry.
“Ava was going to present my work as theirs.”
“And use your car as proof of concept.”
I looked at the Charger.
The beautifully restored machine I had built piece by piece.
The car I had poured my savings into.
My mother's old sewing machine had been in the corner when I first started the interior.
My father's tools had been hanging above the bench.
Memories filled the garage.
For the first time, they didn't feel warm.
They felt contaminated.
Logan stood.
“We need a lawyer.”
“I know.”
“And don't confront your father yet.”
“Why?”
“Because right now, they think you know nothing.”
I looked at him.
“What happens if I let them think that?”
He hesitated.
“Then maybe they'll show you exactly what they've been doing.”
He was right.
I hated that he was right.
I folded the agreement.
Then tucked it back inside the envelope.
“What do we do?”
Logan's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“That's my father.”
He answered.
“Dad?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“Tonight?”
Another pause.
He swallowed.
“I'll come.”
He hung up.
“What?”
May you like
He stared at me.
“My father just asked me why your father's company submitted a loan application using your Charger as collateral.”
