I needed professional help, and I needed it before nine o’clock tomorrow morning.

I opened my laptop and began searching for legal representation in the Cleveland area, focusing on contract law and extortion.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard as a name popped up: Vance & Associates, specializing in business protection and civil litigation.

Their office was only ten minutes from my apartment, right on the edge of the theater district.

I drafted a brief, urgent email to their general inbox, attaching the screenshots Lauren had sent me and detailing the threat against my license.

I hit send, the quiet click of the mouse echoing in the empty room.

The clock on the microwave read 10:15 PM.

I stood up, walked to the window, and pressed my forehead against the cool glass.

The snow was falling faster now, covering the street below in a clean, white blanket that blurred the edges of the city.

I knew that by tomorrow afternoon, my relationship with my family would be changed forever.

But as I looked down at my hands, rough and calloused from years of honest labor, I knew I couldn’t let her take the one thing I had built for myself.