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𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑾𝑨𝑺 easily one of the top five worst days of Christiana's life—and it started with a damn phone call. She really wished she hadn't answered.
Brian had called, asking for a favor. At first, she wasn't going to even entertain it, not wanting to spend a second with the man who had caused so much damage in her life. But then he said the favor was connected to Letty—and that changed everything.
She didn't want to, but she found herself agreeing. And now here she was, standing in some random garage Brian had chosen to meet in.
"Hey, Brian," Christiana said, her voice soft, barely audible, as she leaned against the garage door, watching him examine a beat-up junk car.
The sound of her voice pulled Brian's attention away from the car. He turned, a slight smile on his face. "Hey, Chris," he said, walking toward her, his steps slow, measured. "Thank you for actually showing up."
Christiana didn't return the smile. She crossed her arms, her stance closed off, and tried not to let the disdain she felt show in her voice. "Why am I here? You never actually told me why you needed me."
Brian shifted uncomfortably. "I need your help designing a car."
The words hit Christiana like a slap in the face. She froze for a moment, processing. Was he really serious? Was this some sick joke to him? Using Letty's death as an excuse to get her here? Did he honestly think she'd be okay with that?
"You called me down here for a car?" she scoffed, incredulous. "You're fucking sick."
She turned to walk away, but before she could take a step, Brian's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. The anger surged through Christiana, and without thinking, she shoved him back as hard as she could, sending him stumbling a few steps.
"Let me go, Brian," she snapped, trying to pull her wrist free, but he held on.
"It's for Letty, I swear!" Brian shouted, his voice cracking slightly, desperation seeping through. He yanked her back, spinning her to face him.
Christiana stood there, her chest heaving with frustration, staring at him, searching his eyes for any sign that this wasn't a twisted game. But there was nothing—only the sincerity of his words, even if she didn't want to believe them.
