I gripped the leather seat, my eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The phone buzzed one more time in my hand.

I looked down.

The screen showed a GPS coordinate.

It was mapping a route deep into the Sacramento delta.

Away from the clinic.

Away from everything I thought I knew.

“Ana,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“Change of plans.”

She glanced at me, her hands tight on the steering wheel.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

I held up the phone so she could see the glowing map.

“To the place where it began,” I said.

The car surged forward into the foggy night.

The engine roared, drowning out the distant sirens.

I watched the miles click away on the dashboard.

The air inside the car felt heavy, charged with the sudden realization that my mother might still be alive.

Or that someone was playing a cruel, final game with Abigail’s fortune.

Either way, I wasn’t going to stop until I knew the truth.

Even if it cost me everything I had left.

Even if the legacy claimed me too.