Chapter Two
572 Words
The Hart family wasn’t wealthy.
Not even close.
They lived in a modest townhouse in Brooklyn.
Michael Hart taught mathematics at a public high school.
Eleanor worked as a nurse.
Their lives were ordinary.
Simple.
Beautiful.
There were no private jets.
No luxury vacations.
No designer clothes.
But there was laughter.
Movie nights.
Pancake Sundays.
Family hugs.
And dreams.
Lots of dreams.
Especially Amelia’s.
At twenty years old, Amelia Hart was studying Computer Science at Columbia University.
Her professors called her gifted.
Her classmates called her a perfectionist.
She spent hours building websites.
Designing software.
Writing lines of code that looked like poetry to her.
She wanted to build technology that could help struggling entrepreneurs.
Small businesses.
Single mothers.
Freelancers.
People who had dreams but lacked expensive tools.
She wanted to make success accessible.
Her father always said,
“People chase money.”
“But builders?”
“They chase solutions.”
“And solutions attract wealth.”
Amelia never forgot that.
She was her father’s daughter.
Curious.
Persistent.
Quietly ambitious.
And deeply loved.
Lucas was sixteen.
Tall for his age.
Bright.
Funny.
Obsessed with robotics.
He worshipped Amelia.
She was his hero.
She attended every school competition.
Every debate.
Every science fair.
Even when she had assignments due.
Even when she barely slept.
To Lucas, Amelia wasn’t just his sister.
She was proof that ordinary people could achieve extraordinary things.
Life was perfect.
Until the rain came.
It started on a Friday.
Eleanor had picked up an extra shift.
Michael offered to drive her.
They kissed Lucas goodbye.
Michael squeezed Amelia’s shoulder.
“Don’t stay awake coding.”
“No promises.”
“Amelia.”
She smiled.
“Fine.”
“I’ll sleep.”
He kissed her forehead.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
The front door closed.
Lucas was asleep by ten.
Amelia sat at her desk.
Coding.
Headphones on.
Coffee beside her.
Dreams in her eyes.
At 11:47 p.m., her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
She answered anyway.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice spoke.
“Miss Amelia Hart?”
“Yes?”
“This is Officer Reynolds.”
“There has been an accident.”
Her smile faded.
“Your parents…”
Silence.
Then—
“We’re sorry.”
“They didn’t survive.”
The laptop slipped from her hands.
And in a single night—
Amelia Hart lost everything.
“No.”
Amelia shook her head.
“No.”
“There must be a mistake.”
Officer Reynolds remained silent.
Miss Hart, I understand this is difficult—
“No!”
She stood up so quickly her chair toppled backward.
“My parents just left.”
“My father kissed me goodnight.”
“My mother was making plans for...”
“You have the wrong family.”
“You have to.”
Silence.
Then a soft voice.
“I’m very sorry.”
“The accident happened some minutes ago.”
“The roads were slippery.”
“A truck lost control.”
“There was nothing the emergency responders could do.”
Amelia’s knees buckled.
The phone slipped from her hand.
Everything around her blurred.
The laptop screen still glowed.
Lines of unfinished code stared back at her.
Just twenty minutes ago she had been debugging a payment integration.
Twenty minutes ago she still had parents.
Twenty minutes ago she had a future.
Now she had neither.
- Writer
