Price Of Grace: The System Made Me Billionaire

The Deadbolt

The sharp scent of spilled gasoline hit Ethan before the pain did.

Everything happened so fast that Ethan didn’t even get a second to process what actually happened.

One second, he was telling his mother, Mrs. Nancy Vance, that he would take her to the beach after her checkup at the hospital today, and the next second, a speeding car in the opposite lane lost control and rolled over the divider between the two lanes.

His head spun, and the ringing in his ears took several seconds or minutes- he didn’t know- to stop.

His vision swam, adjusting to the terrifying sight of the world upside down.

The frame of the car was crushed, crumpled as a tin can in a deep roadside ditch.

Smoke poured from under the hood, carrying the acrid stench of burning rubber and melting plastic.

He panicked when he remembered that he wasn’t alone.

"Mom..." Ethan choked out, coughing past the dust in his throat.

Through his blurred vision, he saw his mother hung limp against her harness in the passenger seat.

Her face was deathly pale, and the blood was dripping steadily from a jagged gash on her forehead.

"Mom! Open your eyes." Ethan yelped, trying to reach her, his chest burning with every breath.

The sharp pain in his ribs made him scream in agony, but he ignored it and desperately tried to unbuckle his seatbelt.

He dropped against the roof and scrambled over to reach her shoulder.

“Mom… Mom…. Open your eyes!” he pleaded, fear filling his heart.

Nancy tried to open his eyes, but it felt like the most difficult task in the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.

Ethan’s bloodied and worried face appeared in front of her eyes.

“E….than…” she uttered, but it took her all her strength.

A hiss erupted from the engine bay, followed by a sudden flash of orange.

The spilled gasoline’s stench hit their nostrils hard.

Flames were licking the edge of the windshield.

Both Ethan and Nancy realized that if they didn’t get out in minutes, the heat could ignite the fuel tank.

Ethan slammed his shoulder against the driver’s side door when nothing came to mind.

It didn’t budge.

He spun on his butt and kicked the frame.

But the pain shot down his leg, making him grunt hard.

The door was jammed.

“Damn it!” He yelled in frustration.

It was his wife Sarah Ashford’s new custom electric vehicle.

It was built with an ultra-secure auto-lock system. The frame automatically deadbolted the moment the sensors detected a rollover or severe damage.

It was designed to prevent carjackings after a crash and couldn’t be opened unless overridden by the owner’s master app.

Which was on Sarah’s phone.

Sarah Whitmore – his wife, and also the owner of this car.

Ethan flinched hard when the flame suddenly boomed.

His hand shook as he pulled his phone from his pocket, assessing the flames outside.

The phone screen was spider-webbed with cracks, but the backlight flickered to life.

He instantly dialled Sarah’s number, looking at his mother, trying to figure out a way to open the seatbelt to free her.

“Pick up, Sarah! Please, I beg you!” He yelled at no one. The temperature inside the cabin was visibly rising now.

The call continued ringing, making him more anxious with every unanswered ring.

The call connected before the last ring.

He had to pull the phone away from his ear when the thumping bass of club music and shrieks of laughter blasted through the speaker.

"What do you want, Ethan?" Sarah’s slurred voice, dripping with annoyance, shot into his ear.

"I told you I was out celebrating Mike’s promotion. Stop bothering me.”

"Sarah, listen to me," Ethan screamed, his voice cracking with pure terror.

"We had an accident. The car rolled into a ditch near Highway 9. The doors are locked from the inside, and the engine is on fire. Open your app and press Emergency Override. Mom is trap inside. Ple…please override it."

A brief silence hovered over the line, making Ethan more anxious than he already was.

Then, a sharp, patronizing laugh cut through.

"Oh, pathetic," Sarah sneered.

"What's the trick this time, Ethan? Last month it was a 'sudden fever' because you wanted me home for dinner. Now you're setting cars on fire? How original!" Sarah’s voice was filled with disdain and mockery.

In the background, Mike’s voice boomed softly.

“Who is ruining your mood, Sarah? Is this your pathetic husband?” Ethan clenched his jaw, but he was used to of Mike’s contempt.

"I am not lying, Sarah. You don’t believe me. Fine. But you can believe the app, right? Open the app and you will know everything." Ethan sobbed, holding the phone toward the windshield.

The roar of the flames was deafening now, the metal snapping under intense heat.

He wanted Sarah to listen to these voices so that she could understand the severity of the situation.

Sarah sighed heavily, the sound of her heels clicking against the tile floor as she stepped into a quieter corner.

"Fine. Hold on." She said flatly, rolling her eyes.

Ethan held his breath.

On the other side, Sarah opened the vehicle status tab on her second phone.

A stark notification popped up: CRITICAL WARNING: GLASS IMPACT & PRESSURE DROP DETECTED.

For a second, Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. She was drunk, but she still understood the meaning of this warning.

But Mike leaned over her shoulder, glancing at the screen with a smirk.

“Glass impact? Oh, please! Ethan probably smashed the window himself. Remember how he complained about wanting cash for his mom’s medical checks? He’s probably trying to stage a break-in, claim insurance, and steal your jewelry from the trunk." He rubbed her arm while reminding her of a past event.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her drunk mind instantly latching onto the paranoia.

"You're right. He knew I left my vintage watches in the glovebox." She mumbled.

"Sarah, please!" Ethan begged; smoke began to fill the close space of the car, making him cough uncontrollably.

"Unlock the doors. Now!” He screamed at the top of his lungs when the next burst of flame almost reached them.

"Nice try, Ethan," Sarah said, her voice dropping into a cold, cruel register.

"You want to play thief? Let's see how far you get." Before Ethan could say a word, she hung up.

“Sarahhhhhhh.” Ethan screamed in panic, but the word got stuck in his throat when he heard the cold tone.

At the same time, on the dashboard, a bright crimson indicator light flared to life: DEADBOLT ENGAGED / EXTERNAL OVERRIDE ACTIVE.

Sarah hadn't just refused to unlock it; she had remotely activated the high-security deadbolts, completely sealing the cabin mechanics.

The heat inside the car was suffocating now. Flames began to burst through the air vents. His mother groaned, barely conscious.

For a few seconds, Ethan’s mind short-circuited.

He knew that Sarah believed Mike more than anyone else, but he couldn’t believe Sarah could be this cruel.

She literally signed off their death sentence.

“E….than.” He snapped out of his daze when he heard his mother’s weak voice.

Driven by sheer, unadulterated adrenaline, Ethan slammed his bare elbow into the cracked side window. Pain flared through his arm, but he hit it again. And again.

On the fourth strike, the reinforced glass shattered into jagged pieces, slicing deep into his forearm and ribcage.

Ignoring the blood pouring down his torso, Ethan wriggled through the narrow, glass-rimmed opening, his skin tearing against the frame.

He dropped onto the dirt outside, gasping for air, but didn't pause for a second.

He grabbed a heavy rock from the ditch, scrambled around to his mother's side, and pounded the passenger window until it gave way.

Reaching in, he hauled his mother’s limp body out of the wreckage, dragging her up the muddy embankment with every ounce of strength left in his body.

They had barely crawled ten paces clear of the ditch when the fuel line ruptured.

BOOM!

A shockwave of heat threw Ethan forward onto the grass.

He looked back to see a towering column of fire swallowing the car whole.