Sold it. Like it was a piece of clutter. Not the thing Dennis had spent two decades restoring — the 1967 Shelby GT500 he’d found rusting in a barn and brought back to life bolt by bolt.

“I needed the money,” Brian said quickly. “Vanessa’s Paris trip is important for her business. I didn’t want to let her down.”

My chest went cold. “Fifteen thousand dollars,” he added.

Fifteen thousand. For a car worth ten times that — and priceless to Dennis.

Vanessa stepped closer, her tone smooth and patronizing. “Carol, it’s done. Dwelling on the past doesn’t help anyone. You’ve been stuck in grief too long. Letting go of things might help you heal.”

I stared at her, every word scraping against what was left of my patience. “You sold your father’s legacy,” I said to Brian. “For a vacation.”

He wouldn’t