The restaurant was a solid forty-minute drive from my family's house.
We lived in the city too, but farther from my office— I'd moved out on my own for work convenience.
The alcohol from dinner hit hard, and I could barely keep my eyes open ten minutes into the ride. Between it and pulling an all-nighter the night before, exhaustion was crushing me.
I reclined my seat, sinking into a drowsy haze.
I wasn't even halfway home when Grandpa called, asking when I'd arrive.
"Almost there," I mumbled. "On the road, be there soon."
I hung up and was ready to doze off—until the corner of my eye caught a flash of black fabric.
A black dress, draped over a pair of legs, ending in a pair of red high heels.
My blood turned to ice. I froze, then stared harder. Peeking out of those red stilettos were tiny, pale feet—smooth as jade, toenails painted jet black.
I jolted. That's exactly what I'd seen the night at the condo, after Jake opened the door—the girl with black nail polish on her toes.
There was someone in my car. Someone who hadn't been there before.
"Stop! Pull over NOW!" I screamed, scrambling upright, too terrified to glance at the backseat. "I need out! Let me out!"
The driver jumped, swerving slightly before yanking to the curb.
I threw open the door and bolted, tripping over my own feet as I stumbled away from the car.
The driver hurried after me, panicked. "Sir, are you okay? What's wrong?"
He had no clue what spooked me—like he couldn't see her at all.
"Ghost! There's a ghost!" I pointed at my car, voice cracking. "A woman's in there! Didn't you see her?!"
His eyes went wide. He sprinted back to check the car, then returned, confused.
"Sir, there's no one inside. I only picked you up—just you. You know how many passengers you had."
He hesitated, then added gently: "You must've had too much to drink. Hallucinations."
Sobering up fast, I still didn't dare check alone. I dragged him back to the car, and we combed every inch—front, back, seats, floor mats. Empty.
But I knew what I'd seen. I wasn't imagining it.
Unwilling to give up, I popped the trunk.
My blood ran cold at the sight.
A single red stiletto. Same scuffed style, same chipped heel as the one Jake had found.
Fuming, I pulled out my phone. That bastard Jake—when did he sneak this in my car?
"Jake! What the hell is wrong with you?!" I snarled as he picked up.
He sounded half-asleep, like he'd already settled in at the spa. "Ethan? You home yet?"
"You know exactly what! Why'd you plant that red shoe in my trunk? You think scaring me is funny?!"
"Huh? The shoe I found?" Jake sounded genuinely bewildered. "I never touched your car! It's in my trunk—still there, I swear. You're wasted, man."
I went cold. Not Jake.
"I have one too. And I saw her in the backseat— the woman with black nail polish."
Silence on the line.
"Are you staying at your folks' place tonight?" Jake finally asked, voice tight.
"No way. I can't risk dragging Dad and Grandpa into this mess."
"Then get over here. We'll stick together—safer that way. We'll head to Master Qi's first thing tomorrow."
I agreed, hung up, and climbed back into the car. The driver gave me a wary look but said nothing, merging back onto the road.
I didn't dare close my eyes the rest of the trip. Minutes later, we pulled up to my parents' building.
I stepped inside to find Grandpa and Dad sitting in the living room, both grim-faced, tension thick in the air.
Dad tensed the second he saw me—guilt written all over his face.
"Dad. Where were you this afternoon?" I cut straight to the chase.
"Overtime," he mumbled, eyes darting away.
"Overtime at the police precinct?"
The roles felt reversed—me grilling him like a parent.
His head shot up, stunned. "How did you…?"
"I have a contact at the precinct. He told me everything." I crossed my arms. "Since when do we own a second condo? Why didn't I know about this?"
Dad's face fell. He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "I explained to the cops— that condo was never mine, not really. It belonged to a young couple, fifteen years ago."
"They wanted to buy it, but they owed money to someone. If they put the place in their name, their creditors would sue, seize it, and auction it off."
"They paid me a lump sum to take the deed in my name. On paper, it was mine—but they lived there, paid the bills, everything. It was always theirs."
I stared, dumbfounded. It sounded insane. Trusting a stranger with a six-figure property? If Dad had wanted to steal it, the couple would've had zero recourse— the deed was in his name.
"You needed the money that badly?" I said, softer now, but still frustrated.
Grandpa glowered at Dad, his own face tight with disapproval.
Dad's voice cracked. "We didn't have our house yet— we were short fifty grand for the down payment. That cash covered it. I thought it was harmless—no laws broken."
He paused, voice thickening. "Your mom was thinking of leaving back then. I thought if we had a house, she'd stay. I wasn't thinking straight."
My chest ached. I'd forgotten that part— how desperate Dad had been to hold our family together back then.
Mom had left out of nowhere, abandoning Dad and me without a second glance. She never called, never visited— everyone knew she'd run off with another man. Dad never spoke ill of her, not once, but I saw the pain in his eyes for years.
I softened my tone, sitting beside him. "Dad—do you know Li Xiumei? The woman whose body was found in that wall? What was your connection to her?"