Chapter 1He Locked Me On The Interstate

I had just merged onto the interstate in my brand-new, sixty-thousand-dollar Tesla Model Y when the car suddenly choked, locking my speed at precisely twelve miles per hour.

Thinking it was some kind of catastrophic system failure, I hastily switched on my hazard lights and called my boyfriend, my hands shaking on the steering wheel.

He answered, his voice light with an easy, mocking chuckle.

"Myra suddenly decided she wants to go skiing up at Stevens Pass," Wyatt said. "She was worried you’d drive the car too far away before she could get the keys, so I set the speed limit on the app."

Behind me, horns blared in a deafening, angry chorus. In the rearview mirror, the massive grille of a semi-truck loomed, its brakes screeching as it swerved to avoid me. The sound of the horn seemed to vibrate straight through my skull. I missed a pileup by inches.

"Just pull over to the shoulder," Wyatt added, entirely oblivious to the chaos he had unleashed. "Her cousin Trent is on his way to pick it up from you."

Then came the familiar, heavy-handed sigh. "She rarely gets a chance to have some fun, Lydia. Don't be so selfish."

I stared at the glowing digital dashboard, the speed frozen at a mockery of twelve miles per hour. Suddenly, the urge to argue, to scream, to explain the terror of almost being crushed by a semi-truck, evaporated.

Half an hour later, I managed to limp the car back to the Tesla delivery center.

The sales associate who had handed me the keys just an hour prior came jogging out, her face a mix of confusion and worry. "Lydia? Is there something wrong with the registration?"

I pushed the purchase contract across the glossy desk.

"The paperwork is fine," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "The person is the problem."

* * *

The sales associate, Fiona, froze with her hand halfway to the document.

"Lydia, the delivery is already finalized on our end," she said gently, looking out at the heavy Seattle rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. "Reversing a vehicle purchase like this is... well, it’s incredibly complicated."

My hands were still trembling.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the headlights of that semi-truck bearing down on my rear bumper. The phantom blast of its air horn was still ringing in my ears.

"I don't care how complicated it is."

Fiona took a closer look at my pale face and lowered her voice. "Did something happen on the road? If it was a software glitch or a sudden speed limitation, we can have our service team run a diagnostic immediately."

Before she could finish, my phone buzzed on the desk.

It was an audio message from Wyatt. I tapped it, and his impatient, sharp voice cut through the quiet showroom:

"Lydia, where the hell did you take the car? Trent has been standing out on the shoulder in the freezing rain for thirty minutes. Can you grow up for once? It’s just a car. Do you really have to make everything so ugly?"

Fiona’s expression shifted. A couple of sales reps at the desks nearby stopped typing.

I closed the message and typed a three-word response: "I returned it."

Within seconds, my phone rang.

When I answered, Wyatt’s voice sounded like it had been dragged through gravel. "Have you lost your mind? I spent weeks helping you pick out that spec. You’re just going to return it?"

"Did you pay for it?" I asked.

The silence in the showroom was so absolute I could hear the hum of the lighting fixtures.

"I paid for it," I said, my voice steady, though my chest felt hollow. "Every single cent."

There was a brief pause on the line. Then, he let out a sharp, condescending laugh.

"Oh, so now we’re keeping score, Lydia? You bought this car so we could use it when we get married. What's the big deal if Myra borrows it for a weekend? Besides, I only put a temporary speed cap on it to make sure she could actually get the keys. It's not like you got hurt."

A coldness seeped through my ribs, wrapping around my heart.

Wyatt was a smart-vehicle integration engineer. Before I bought the car, he had insisted on being involved in every step. He claimed his connections could get me a better corporate discount, and that binding the primary vehicle account to his developer profile would make the security features more robust.

On delivery day, he had taken my phone, setting up the car's profiles and pairing the keys with an air of absolute authority. I had stood there in the delivery bay, watching him explain the features to me as if he were describing the foundation of our future home.

At the time, I actually felt a swell of warmth. I thought he was finally putting effort into our life together.

Fiona silently set a cup of warm water in front of me. When my fingers brushed the paper cup, I realized just how cold my hands were.

From the other end of the line, Myra’s soft, fragile voice drifted through the speaker.

"Wyatt, please, let’s just forget it. I’m sure Lydia is just attached to her new car. I don't need to go skiing anyway. It’s fine. People like me... well, wanting to be happy for once is a luxury I shouldn't expect."

Wyatt’s tone shifted instantly, turning gentle and protective. "Don't say that. When have I ever broken a promise to you?"

When he spoke to me again, the warmth vanished, replaced by a cold command. "Lydia, drive the car back right now. Myra’s cabin rental is non-refundable. If you ruin this trip for her, I'm not going to bail you out."

I looked down at my signature on the contract.

Every stroke of the pen represented a piece of my life. That sixty-thousand-dollar down payment held the fifteen thousand my grandmother had left me, three years of brutal overtime savings, and the money I had set aside to renovate our future home.

Wyatt had told me the house could wait. He said we needed a reliable car first.

He said his mother’s hips were failing, and we needed something comfortable to take her to physical therapy on weekends. He said my commute was too long, and that a safer car would give him peace of mind.

Yet, on day one, that very car had almost cost me my life on the I-90.

"Wyatt," I said, my voice flatter than I expected. "When you remotely locked my car to twelve miles per hour, did you even care that I was in the middle lane of the interstate?"

He let out an irritated click of his tongue. "The limit was temporary. Couldn't you have just pulled over? If your driving skills are that terrible, don't blame me."

Just then, the glass doors of the showroom slid open. A man in a damp black rain jacket walked in.

He glanced around the pristine space before locking eyes with me and walking over.

"Lydia, right?" he said, shaking the water off his sleeves. "I'm Myra's cousin, Trent. Just give me the keys."

Fiona instinctively stepped between us.

Trent frowned, looking offended. "What is this place? Since when does dealership staff get involved in family business?"

Wyatt’s voice yelled from the phone: "Trent, you there? Lydia, stop acting like a child. Give him the keys."

Trent reached across the table toward my key card. I pulled it back, gripping it tightly.

His face darkened. "You're really something, aren't you? Myra's health has been terrible lately. She just wanted to get some fresh mountain air, and you're here playing gatekeeper over a piece of metal."

Before I could answer, two more people entered the showroom.

Myra was clad in a pristine white puffer jacket, the hood lined with soft faux fur dusted with rain. Behind her was Wyatt. He must have rushed over; his hair was damp, and his eyes were burning with a quiet, suppressed fury.

Seeing me, Myra’s eyes immediately welled with tears.

"Lydia, I am so sorry," she sobbed, her voice trembling. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have asked to borrow the car. But I... I haven't been out of the city in so long."

Wyatt stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body.

It was a gesture I had seen a thousand times. Back in college, during club dinners, if she couldn't handle her drinks, he drank for her. After graduation, when her apartment pipes burst in the middle of the night, he went over to fix them. When her cat went missing, he took a day off work to search the neighborhood with her.

Every time I questioned it, he had the same answer: "She grew up without a brother, Lydia. I'm just looking out for her. Don't be so petty."

And now, he stood between my car and my safety, still protecting her.

"Lydia, hand over the keys," Wyatt demanded, holding out his palm.

A draft from the automatic doors blew inside, carrying the scent of wet asphalt. The metallic edge of the key fob dug into my palm.

Before I could speak, Myra took a step forward, her tears spilling over her pale cheeks.

"Lydia, is this because I sat in the passenger seat during the test drive? I promise I'll never sit in the front again. I'll ride in the back."

Wyatt’s face went completely cold. "Look how terrified you’ve made her."

He reached out, his fingers wrapping around mine, forcing my grip open.

Fiona quickly called out to the showroom security guard.

In the scuffle, Wyatt leaned down, his voice a low, threatening hiss in my ear: "Don't make me humiliate you in front of these people."

With a harsh tug, he wrenched the key card from my hand. The plastic edge scraped hard against the corner of the desk, and a bead of blood welled up on the back of my hand.

Myra let out a soft gasp.

Wyatt didn't even look at my hand. He pocketed the key, turned, and handed it to Myra. "Go wait in the car."