There, under a large oak tree, sat a stunning Rolls-Royce Phantom decorated with white ribbons and flowers. The car looked almost unreal—silver paint gleaming like liquid light.
For a moment, Ethan forgot everything except admiration.
Then footsteps approached.
He hid behind some stacked boxes and peeked through the gap.
A tall woman in a lavender bridesmaid dress walked into the garage. Her name was Lydia, Emily’s cousin. In photographs she always smiled beside the bride, but now her face was twisted with bitterness.
Beside her stood a man wearing gray coveralls.
“Did anyone see you?” Lydia whispered.
“No,” the man replied nervously.
“I don’t care if they die,” Lydia said coldly. “In fact, it would be perfect. Emily always had everything—love, praise, attention. And now she gets Daniel and his fortune. That life should have been mine.”
She touched the Rolls-Royce like someone claiming ownership.
“Make sure they never reach the airport,” she ordered. “I want their fairy tale to end before it begins.”
The man pulled out a long needle tool and slid beneath the car.
Ethan closed his eyes and listened.
Pss… ess…
A faint hiss.
He recognized the sound instantly—pressurized brake fluid escaping through a tiny hole.
A sweet chemical smell followed: DOT 4 brake fluid.
Ethan’s heart pounded. The man had punctured the brake line with a needle, creating a slow leak. The brakes would seem fine at first, but every time they were used, more fluid would escape. Eventually the system would fail completely—most likely on a downhill road.
“It’s done,” the man said, sliding out.
Lydia handed him a thick envelope.
“Disappear.”
After he left, she smiled cruelly at the car.
“Enjoy the ride, cousin,” she whispered before returning to the party.
Ethan trembled. The Rolls-Royce looked like a wounded animal slowly bleeding onto the floor.
He had to warn someone.
At that moment the chauffeur, Marcus, entered the garage. Dressed in a perfect navy uniform with white gloves, Marcus treated the Rolls-Royce like royalty.
“Perfect,” he murmured, polishing the hood ornament.
He began inspecting the car, but only for cosmetic details.
Then he noticed the small dark stain beneath the front wheel.
Ethan held his breath.
Marcus leaned closer.
“Just condensation from the air conditioner,” he muttered.
Ethan couldn’t stay silent.
“That’s not water!”
Marcus spun around.
“What are you doing here, you filthy kid?”