My sister framed me for a hit-and-run—and my parents expected me to take the blame, until the truth came out and changed everything

systematically dismantled the physical evidence.

But dismantling the trap wasn’t enough.

I needed to incinerate the people who set it.

“Now, you said you received an anonymous tip 10 minutes after the collision,” I stated, my voice completely devoid of the panic or desperation that usually echoed off the concrete walls of this room.

I minimized the logistics server and opened a commercial telecom application.

“An eyewitness who claimed they saw a woman matching my exact physical description fleeing the wreckage on foot.”

I didn’t wait for him to confirm.