My parents stood behind Tyler like judges while he swung the tire iron into my windshield. “You should’ve just given me the car,” he snapped, glass exploding across the driveway. Mom smiled. “Family shares.” Dad laughed. “Now you’ll learn.” I covered my mouth, pretending to sob—but my phone was recording, the insurance papers were in my name, and Tyler had no idea who really owned his future.
The first crack across my windshield sounded like a gunshot. By the second swing, I realized my parents weren’t going to stop…