The heir’s choice

The first thing I felt was the dampness in the air. No alarm. No sunlight. Just the rhythmic *thwack*-*thwack* of heavy rain hitting the AC unit outside my window. I searched for my phone, my thumb slipping on the screen twice before I got it to light up. 7:06 AM. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I croaked. My throat was dry, and my heart immediately started thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird. I hit Abel’s contact. *Ring*. *Ring*. *Ring*. "Pick up, pick up, pick up..." I muttered, pacing the small patch of carpet by my bed. Nothing. Of course, I went to hit redial, my thumb hovering over his name, when a flash of memory hit me like a physical punch to the gut: The car. Yesterday. The oil check. The distraction of a phone call. I never shuted the bonnet. I didn't even stop to put on shoes. I hurried down the stairs in my socks, nearly wiping out on the bottom step, and yanked the front door open. The cold didn't just hit me; it bit. The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the street into a gray smear. I ran to the driveway, the wet pavement soaking through my socks instantly. The bonnet was sitting open just a crack—enough for the engine bay to be a swimming pool by now. I slammed it down with a heavy clack that vibrated up my arms. "Great. Just great," I whispered, wiping rain out of my eyes. I was standing there in soaked pajamas, shivering, knowing damn well that the car wasn't going to start for my commute tomorrow. I looked like a drowned rat, and I felt like one, too. "Morning, Summer!" I stiffened. My shoulders hiked up to my chin. I didn't need to turn around to know it was him. "It’s February," I snapped, finally turning. My hair was plastered to my forehead, and I was blinking back the sting of rainwater. "It’s winter." My neighbor was standing there in one of those loud, nylon tracksuits—the kind that swish-swishes when you walk. He looked entirely too dry and too happy. "Oh, I know," he said, giving me a cheeky, lopsided grin. "Just a bit of irony, right? Being named Winter while you're standing in a puddle in... well, winter." I rolled my eyes, but it lacked its usual sting because I was too busy shivering. My parents thought they were being poetic when they named me Winter. To me, it was just a lifelong invitation for bad jokes. "So, Winter," he leaned against his porch railing, oblivious to my misery. "You free tomorrow? I was thinking—" "I’m not sure, Mr. Track Suit," I cut him off, my teeth starting to chatter. He let out a bark of a laugh, one that seemed to vibrate his whole chest. He laughed so hard that a string of snot actually flew out of his nose. He didn't even wipe it. He just kept grinning. I felt a wave of genuine "nope" wash over me. I took a step back toward my door, hugging my soaking wet arms. "I have to go back in. I’m already catching a cold, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen enough for one morning." I didn't wait for him to finish his sentence. I retreated into the house, the squelch of my wet socks on the floor the only sound in the hallway. I needed a hot shower and a lot of coffee… Yeah. None of that was happening. My eyes snapped to the clock on the wall. 7:23 AM. “Oh no. No, no, no—” The interview. 8 AM. My stomach dropped. I ran upstairs, nearly slipping again, my wet socks doing absolutely nothing to help. My room looked like a disaster zone, but I didn’t even pause. I yanked open my wardrobe and grabbed the first decent thing I saw—a black pair of trousers and a shirt that wasn’t too wrinkled. Good enough. No time for a proper shower. I wiped my face quickly, brushed my teeth as if my life depended on it, and dragged a comb through my hair. It snagged halfway. I left it. “Great. Perfect. Amazing,” I muttered, already out of breath. My phone. I grabbed it from the bed and opened my ride app, my fingers moving too fast, almost hitting the wrong location. No cars nearby. “Are you serious right now?” I refreshed. One driver. Eight minutes away. I didn’t even think—I booked it immediately. My heart was pounding as I rushed through my room, grabbing my bag and checking for my documents. File? Yes. ID? Yes. Phone? Obviously. Shoes. I froze. Where were my shoes? I dropped to my knees, checking under the bed. Nothing. I spun around—there by the door. “Why are you like this?” I snapped at myself, shoving my feet into them without bothering with the laces properly. My phone buzzed. The driver is arriving in 6 minutes. Too slow. Way too slow. I grabbed my bag and ran downstairs again, this time more careful—but still fast enough to almost miss a step. Outside, the rain had eased slightly, but the cold still bit at my skin. I stood by the door, shifting from one foot to the other, watching the street like that would make the car appear faster. “Come on… come on…” Another buzz. Driver arriving in 2 minutes. Finally. I stepped out toward the gate, hugging my bag to my chest, already trying to fix my hair with one hand. By the time the car pulled up, I didn’t even wait properly. I opened the door and slid in, breathless. “Please, I’m in a bit of a hurry,” I said, trying to steady my voice. As the car pulled away, I leaned back, my chest rising and falling too fast, my reflection staring back at me faintly in the window. I looked… rushed. Because I was. The rain hadn’t stopped. It came down harder now, hitting the windshield so fast the wipers could barely keep up. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” the driver said, pressing a little harder on the accelerator. I didn’t like that. “Maybe slow down a bit” A horn blared. Too loud. Too close. My head snapped to the side just in time to see it A black Rolls-Royce Phantom is speeding straight toward us. “Wait!” Everything happened at once. A screech. A crash. Metal slamming into metal. My body jerked forward, the seatbelt biting hard into my chest. My head hit the side, and for a second everything went quiet. Too quiet. Then the ringing started. I blinked, my vision swimming. My hands were shaking as I pushed the door open and stumbled out into the rain. Pain shot through my arm, but I barely felt it. The other car The front was crushed. Smoke curling into the air. “Oh my God…” The driver’s door creaked open. A woman stumbled out. Middle-aged, her clothes soaked in rain… and blood. “Hey—hey, you need to sit down—” I started, moving toward her. She shook her head quickly, her eyes wild. “No… no time…” She turned back into the car and pulled out a little girl—maybe five or six—holding her tightly despite the way her hands trembled. The child wasn’t crying. The woman pushed her gently toward me. “Please…” her voice broke. “Take her.” I froze. “What?”