The Lethal Heiress: Too Late For Regret

The morning sun barely penetrated the thick windows of the Maddox estate's underground garage. The air was climate-controlled, smelling faintly of expensive car wax and rubber.

Ashlee walked out of the elevator. She wore a black leather motorcycle jacket over a plain white t-shirt. Her boots clicked sharply against the polished concrete floor.

The garage held six cars. Her eyes swept past the Range Rover and the Bentley.

She stopped in front of a sleek, matte-black Porsche 911 GT3 RS.

Ashlee walked over to the wooden key cabinet mounted on the wall. She opened the glass door. She reached for the key fob with the Porsche crest.

"Don't touch that!" a voice shrieked.

Ashlee paused. She slowly turned her head.

Averi stormed out of the elevator. She wore a tight pink Lululemon yoga outfit. Her face was flushed with anger. She ran over in her expensive running shoes and slammed her hand against the cabinet door, pinning it shut.

Averi lifted her chin. She looked at Ashlee with pure arrogance.

"That is my car," Averi declared. "Dad bought it for my birthday last month. You are not allowed to touch it."

Ashlee looked at Averi. She looked at the hand pressing against the glass. Her expression did not change. She looked at Averi the way a person looks at a cockroach blocking the hallway.

"Move," Ashlee said. Her voice was quiet.

"No!" Averi snapped. "You think you can just come back here and take whatever you want? You're nothing but a-"

Ashlee's right hand shot out.

She didn't punch Averi. She simply grabbed Averi's wrist. Her fingers wrapped around the delicate bones. Ashlee's thumb found the exact location of the radial nerve.

Ashlee pressed down. Hard.

A violent shock of pain shot up Averi's arm. Her fingers instantly went numb. The muscles in her forearm spasmed uncontrollably.

Averi screamed. It was a sharp, genuine cry of agony. Her hand flew off the cabinet door.

Ashlee didn't let go immediately. She held the wrist for one more second, letting the pain sink deep into Averi's brain. Then, she tossed Averi's arm away like a piece of garbage.

Averi stumbled backward. Her legs hit the side of the Rolls-Royce. She slid down against the door, clutching her wrist against her chest. Tears streamed down her face.

Ashlee reached into the cabinet. She took the Porsche key.

She pressed the unlock button. The Porsche's headlights flashed. The engine roared to life with a deep, guttural growl that shook the garage.

Ashlee opened the driver's side door. She looked back at Averi, who was sobbing on the floor.

"It's my car now," Ashlee said.

She slid into the low bucket seat. She pulled the door shut. She shifted into gear and slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The tires screeched against the concrete. The Porsche shot up the ramp and disappeared into the morning light.

Averi sat on the floor, her whole body shaking with rage. She looked at her wrist. It was already turning red. She scrambled to her feet and ran for the elevator.

On the second floor, Finley sat in his dark mahogany study.

He stared at his computer monitor. The stock charts for Maddox Corp were a sea of red lines pointing straight down. He rubbed his temples. A headache pounded behind his eyes.

The study door flew open.

Averi ran in, crying hysterically. She held her wrist up.

"Dad! Look what she did to me!" Averi sobbed. "I just told her not to take my car, and she attacked me! She grabbed me and twisted my arm! She's a psycho!"

Finley looked up. He didn't rush over to comfort her. He looked exhausted.

He stood up and walked over to his liquor cabinet. He poured a heavy measure of scotch into a glass.

"Stop crying, Averi," Finley said sharply. "This isn't about a damn car."

Averi sniffled, looking confused. She lowered her arm.

Finley walked back to his desk. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a thick stack of legal documents. The top page read: Trust Fund Transfer and Management Agreement.

"Your grandfather left Ashlee a trust fund worth three hundred million dollars," Finley said. He took a sip of the burning scotch. "It becomes fully accessible to her on her eighteenth birthday. Which is next week."

Averi's eyes widened. The tears stopped completely. Pure greed flashed in her eyes.

"If Maddox Corp doesn't get a massive cash injection in the next three months, we are going bankrupt," Finley stated coldly. "We will lose this house. We will lose everything."

"So make her give it to us," Averi said.

"She won't just hand it over," Finley said. He tapped his finger against the documents. "But, if we can prove to a judge that Ashlee is mentally unstable... that her time in Eastern Europe left her with severe psychological trauma and violent tendencies... I can petition the court to strip her of her financial rights. I will become the sole executor of the trust."

Averi stared at the papers. A slow, malicious smile spread across her face. She looked down at her red wrist.

"Violent tendencies," Averi repeated softly.

"Exactly," Finley said. He looked at his adopted daughter. "We are hosting a welcome home dinner for her tonight. I need you to push her buttons, Averi. I need you to make her lose control in front of the staff. But do it cleanly. Don't leave any marks on yourself that look staged."

Averi nodded eagerly. "I know exactly what to do."

Miles away, Ashlee drove the Porsche down the Boston highway. The engine screamed as she pushed the car past ninety miles an hour. She gripped the steering wheel, her mind focused entirely on the ghost she was hunting.