Wait.... all of them?

The bedroom smelled like stale coffee.

Amelia hadn't slept. She had spent most of the night sitting at her desk, writing down everything she could remember from the three years after the fall.

By the time the sky outside began to lighten, her notepad was filled with numbers and lists.

At 6:00 AM, Amelia called her personal assistant, Elena.

“Amelia? Is everything okay? It's early.” Elena's voice was thick with sleep.

“List the Malibu house, the Aspen lodge, and the Miami condo today,” Amelia said. “Private listings only. Underprice them by ten percent if you have to, but I want cash buyers who can close within thirty days.”

There was a pause.

“Wait... all of them? Amelia, your father spent two years—”

“I don't care about my father.” She turned the page. “Next, contact the broker handling my jewelry portfolio and the garage. Sell them. Clear out my stock accounts. Liquidate the index funds and the tech shares by the end of the week.”

“Amelia, what is going on? Are you divorcing Ian? Is this some kind of legal settlement?”

“No.” Amelia looked at the list in front of her. “And cancel my club memberships. The equestrian center, the golf club, the luxury concierge services. Cut all of them.”

“Amelia—”

“Keep this between us,” she cut in. “If my family asks, tell them I'm consolidating capital for a new venture. Nothing more.”

There was a long pause.

“I... yes. I'll start the paperwork.”

Amelia ended the call. She didn't have time to explain everything. She looked down at the notes she had made during the night.

She couldn't buy everything from one supplier. If a wealthy woman suddenly started purchasing huge quantities of food, fuel, medicine, and equipment, someone would notice.

She needed to spread the purchases out so no company would see the full picture.

By noon, Amelia was sitting in her home office, speaking to a regional commercial food distributor when the doorbell rang.

She glanced at the wall clock. It was still too early for anyone to come knocking.

Amelia stood up and went to answer the door.

Her brother, Julian, walked in first. Her sister, Vivienne, followed behind him.

“Amelia, darling,” Vivienne sighed as she sat on the couch. “Why do you look so exhausted? Are you having a mid-life crisis?”

Julian didn't bother with small talk. He dropped a folder onto the table.

“Amelia. The board needs you to sign the formal release for the Fourth Street warehouse lot. I'm moving my logistics expansion forward, and Father said your little emotional hold on the deed terminates today. Sign it over to my division.”

Amelia looked down at the folder, then up at her siblings.

In her first life, she had shrunk under Julian's bullying and Vivienne's passive-aggressive comments. She had handed over the warehouse just to keep the peace.

Now, looking at them, she saw the brother who would later lock her out of a bunker and the sister who would accuse her of stealing her food.

She had no intention of making the same mistake twice.

“I'm not signing that, Julian,” Amelia said flatly.

Julian paused, clearly not expecting her reply. "Excuse me? You don't have a choice. That lot belongs to the family trust. You've done nothing with it for years.”

“It's in my name,” Amelia replied, taking a seat and leaning back in her chair.

“And by noon today, you'll get the official news regarding its status. Both of you.”

Vivienne chuckled softly and shook her head. "Amelia, don't be dramatic. You're making a scene out of a rusted piece of junk property. It's been abandoned for years. You can't even sell it.”

She stood up and approached Amelia. “Julian just needs it to expand his division. You're always so understanding, so why not just sign the papers so we can all go to lunch?”

Amelia glared at Vivienne. It took all her self-control not to slap her across the face.

“I won't sign it. Now leave my house,” Amelia said.

Julian laughed. "I see what you're doing. You think acting stubborn will change anything?”

He grabbed the folder from the table. "Father will still force you to sign it anyway. Don't come crawling to me in tears.”

With that, they turned and walked out.

Amelia waited until the front door clicked shut. She didn't waste another second thinking about them.

She changed into a simple black blouse and trousers, grabbed her keys, and left the house.

She drove herself to the Fourth Street warehouse. The industrial district looked almost deserted during the day. Most of the buildings had been abandoned years ago, and several businesses had already moved to newer parts of the city.

She pulled her SUV up to the perimeter gate and stepped out to unlock it

Her hand reached for the iron padlock. Then she stopped.

The padlock was hanging loosely from the chain. Amelia pulled on it, and the metal casing split apart, clattering against the concrete.

It hadn't been unlocked with a key. The shackles had been cut cleanly with commercial bolt cutters.

Someone had broken in. Her first thought was Julian.

He had been desperate enough for the property deed. Maybe he had come here himself to inspect the place before coming to her house.

Amelia pushed the rusted gate open just enough to slip through. She stepped inside and looked around, checking the dark corners, the support beams, and the empty loading bays.

Everything looked untouched. Then something near the base of an old electrical box caught her eye.

Amelia crouched down. A half-smoked cigarette lay on the floor.

She picked it up by the clean end and examined it. The ash at the tip was fresh, and a faint smell of tobacco still clung to the paper.

It couldn't be Julian. Her brother didn't smoke. He was a perfectionist who hated the habit and had banned it from his offices entirely.

Her father didn't smoke either. So whoever had cut the lock had been inside recently.

Amelia slipped the cigarette into her pocket. If her family hadn't broken into the warehouse, then who had?