Clarke sighed deeply and then crossed his arms. "So, that's how you treat a brother you have known for years, Charles. Come on, man."Charles stood blanketed in stoic demeanor still, the frown on his face deepening. "What are you driving at, Clarke? You and I both know where this is heading."She stepped closer and bent down toward him, her voice suddenly intensely serious. "Who took you in, then? Where was it you ran to when you had no place to go?"Charles's eyes did not widen as the answer struck him; he knew it as well as Clarke. His lips tightened, shutting his response in.She dared to push it further. "Where did you stay when you had none?Charles finally spoke, reluctance in his voice. "You did, Clarke. You were there."Clarke nodded, but bitterness lined his eyes. "Who made you his brother when you had nobody?" he asked.Charles's expression sagged a little, but he said sullenly, "You did."The air was heavy with tension as the two men stood there, eyeing each other. Charles
Victor lay on the hard, narrow cot, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of his prison cell. The thin blanket was threadbare and provided scant comfort against the biting chill of the night. The buzzing of mosquitoes supplied a steady background hum that prevented him from sliding into the sleep he so desperately needed. He swatted at one that landed on his arm but knew it was useless. They had always come back, always found a way to harass him.But the mosquitoes were not the only things that kept him awake tonight. Tomorrow was the day he had been waiting for—the day that finally he would be free. Years of incarceration, and the thought of freedom washed him in a wave of happiness, even in that restless night. With a happy sigh, a rare smile curled at the corners of his mouth. He closed his eyes, trying to picture what it would look like outside of those walls: not having to feel the cold concrete beneath him or the bars that kept him enclosed.The sounds of the prison at night were famili
Stephen gasped at the sound of his ragged breathing as his mind raced to wrap itself around what had just happened. Scene in front of him was a nightmare from which he could not wake up. Victor lay lifeless on the cold floor, his once-gray concrete now turned into a deep, sickened red, blood pooling around his lifeless body, from where the wound bled. It twisted something deep inside him that he was not sure would ever right again.Charles stood there, a ghost of the man Stephen thought he knew, his face pale and his eyes hollow. His hand shook a little as he raised it, as if to try to convey an apology without words, but Stephen was not looking for an apology. He wanted answers—answers that might never come."Yuna is fine," all but whispered Charles— hushed, almost too hushed, to the point where this was the kind of hush that tried to soothe but only made matters worse. "She's safe with me."Stephen's eyes narrowed as he tried to take in the words. A cold dread tightened in his chest
The air was thick with tension as the police swarmed the room, their movements precise and practiced. One officer approached Charles cautiously, gun trained on him, while another swiftly retrieved the bloodied knife from the floor, bagging it as evidence. Charles barely resisted as they forced him to the ground, cold metal cuffs clicking around his wrists. His face remained a mask of resignation, a broken man caught in a nightmare of his own making.Stephen stood frozen, shock and disbelief still coursing through him. His mind struggled to process everything—Victor’s lifeless body, Charles’s betrayal, the arrival of the police. It all felt like a blur. An officer stepped toward him, speaking in firm, clipped tones, but Stephen barely registered the words. He didn’t resist when they cuffed him, his eyes locked on Victor’s body as the paramedics zipped it into a black body bag.As the body was wheeled out, Stephen felt a hollow ache in his chest. Victor had been his last connection to t
Stephen stared across at Clarke, who sat with his crossed legs and a face that was difficult to read. Clarke's fingers tapped lightly on the arm of his chair, waiting; his eyes fixed on Stephen."You still haven't told me what you want," Stephen said. His voice was firm, though a lot happened within him. He yet had things to sort out, depending on what to rectify first. These were obligations he could not back down upon—the promise he made."I've got a debt to settle," his mind flashed back upon making the promise. "But you want to get rid of the girl, Yuna? Why?"Clarke's lips curled in a smile that slowly widened. "It's not about hurting her, now, is it. Question is, where is she now? Ask your wife, Marriane."Stephen's heart fluttered. "What does Marriane have to do with this? Did she. did she order Yuna to be killed?"The smile broadened on Clarke's face, but he said no more, leaving Stephen's question to hang in the air like a knife. The room seemed to close in on him as Stephen
The footsteps upstairs became louder, and Charles began to pound. The officers coiled, poised to pounce. Out from one of the darkened corners, a small black cat emerged. Its eyes glinted as it slinked down the stairs, and at that moment, the tension in the room broke like a dam as relieved glances passed from one officer to another. "It's just the cat," one mumbled, the edge in his voice softening as he sheathed his weapon. A second officer, edging his way along the wall toward the staircase, relaxed his posture, a grin tugging at his lips. That was the opening Charles needed to force a nonchalant shrug. "What did I tell you? She isn't here," he said, keeping his tone steady, though inside, a flood of relief crashed through him. Yuna was safe, at least for now. "Fine. But we're taking you outside. If we find out you've been lying…" He pushed roughly at Charles's back toward the door, leaving the threat hanging. They were all leaving the mansion, when one officer—a younger, more
**Two Weeks Later**The darkness smothered the cell, weight upon weight, and pressed down on Stephen lying on the cold, damp floor. The suit, once so sharp, hung in rags from his now-gaunt frame. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but he gave no heed to the feeling—he hadn't eaten for days. Yesterday's tray of food sat untouched, just like the ones that had preceded it.The door creaked, and a line of poor light sliced through the darkness. A dark figure moved in, slinging down another tray of food onto the floor, spilling it inches from Stephen's feet."Eat up, you loser," the man mocked in an abusive tone. He sniggered wickedly at him as he slammed the door shut behind his back; the noise resounded around the cell.Stephen groaned, trying to heave himself up, his muscles protesting the unaccustomed exercise. Pain shot through his body, but gritting his teeth, he forced himself upright. The darkness seemed more oppressive than ever as he finally managed to stand, swaying slightly, prop
With each ever-nearing step to Yuna, Ariane's heart pounded so hard, and her mind swirled so quickly in confusion and disbelief, "Yuna," she hissed lowly, glaringly, "where you are doing this from?"In the morning light, the slight form of Yuna appeared even more delicate; her clothes looked as if they belonged to someone else, hanging on a person who was not there. Yet there was something in her eyes that was resolute: a quiet, unyielding strength, really not in keeping with her frail look. "I need your help, Ariane," said Yuna, her voice firm but shaking.Ariane almost laughed; the sound that passed her lips was harsh and unbelieving. "Why would I help you?" she demanded, scathing now, in her bitterness. "You're just a dirty little thing—always in the way. Why do you keep coming back?"Yuna winced at the jab, but she didn't retreat. Her eyes clung to Ariane's, desperation in their intensity. "I have to talk to Mrs. Marriane," she persisted, her voice a little more steady now, though
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late. The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late. The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen. Stephen did not sa
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late. The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late. The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen. Stephen did not say an
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late. The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late. The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen. Stephen did not say an
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late.The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late.The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face."Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen.Stephen did not say anythi
Stephen stood by the door, watching as Victor’s car grew smaller in the distance. The rumble of the engine slowly faded, leaving nothing but the usual quiet that hung around the small neighborhood. He let out a breath, resting his hand on the doorframe. The last two months had been tough—tougher than he ever imagined.Without the system—the network of contacts and favors that once made his life easy—Stephen had to figure out a way to survive on his own. And it wasn’t glamorous. Every day was a grind, a constant scramble for enough money to cover the basics. Work wasn’t easy to come by, not when you’d burned as many bridges as he had. But he’d managed to find some odd jobs here and there—just enough to scrape by, though never enough to truly get ahead.He closed the door softly, the sound echoing through the small room. Glancing around the cramped space, he couldn’t help but think of the penthouse he once called home. The stark difference between his old life and this one weighed on hi
Stephen stood in the door and watched as Victor's car dwindled to a dot on the horizon. The rumble of the motor died out, leaving only the silent night air hovering over the little neighborhood. He exhaled a breath, his hand falling to rest on the doorframe. The last two months had been rough-tougher than he ever imagined.No system to fall back on now-the network of contacts and favors that oiled his life-Stephen was forced to scrounge some means of survival for himself. Not quite glamorous, the daily fight, the eternal hustle just for the real basics. Jobs were not easy to find, not when one had burned bridges as he had. But he'd been able to find odd jobs here and there, enough just to scrape by, never enough to get any further ahead.He closed the door behind him with a quiet click. The softness echoed inside the tiny room. Glancing around at the cramped quarters, his mind strayed to the penthouse he once called home. The stark dissimilarities between where his life used to be and
Two months later, Victor stared at the address on his phone, then at the small, run-down building in front of him. It didn’t look like a place Stephen would be living. The paint was peeling off the walls, and the grass in front was overgrown. This was far from the sleek, modern apartment Stephen used to own.Victor killed the engine, stepped out of his car, and walked toward the house. It was a self-contained unit—cheap, cramped, and barely enough for one person. He checked the address again. Room number 9. It matched. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.When he reached room 9, he knocked hard. The wood felt thin under his knuckles, like the door could break if he wasn’t careful. He knocked again, louder this time.After a moment, the door creaked open. Victor’s eyebrows shot up. Standing in front of him was Stephen, but he was almost unrecognizable. His hair was longer, his face covered with a scruffy beard, and he’d gained weight—his old sharp features now s
Standing beside Ariane's bed, his mind was spinning as he stared down at the screen of the system on his phone. His fingers trembling, he hit the icon for healing skills. He muttered under his breath, "Why can't this work on her? Why can't I save her?The system kept mum-no explanation, no solution. The shallow breathing of his daughter echoed in the room; every weak breath made him helpless. Stephen swallowed hard as his throat went dry. He could fix deals, he could manipulate numbers, but here in this hospital room, he was powerless.The door creaked open, and Stephen turned to see Enoch step in. Gone was Enoch's usual smug expression, replaced with a concerned frown. "What are you doing here?" Stephen's voice was low, edged with suspicion.Enoch shrugged, glancing over at Ariane. "Heard she was sick, so I decided to come by. How's she doing?"Stephen stared at him for a long moment, unsure of how to reply. His mind flashed back to his earlier doubts. Ariane wasn't his daughter, at
Stephen sat cross-legged on a soft mat, his eyes closed to focus on the calm voice of the guru. The air around him was scented with burning incense; a low hum of chanting echoed softly from the walls. He had called in the guru in a last-ditch effort to clear his mind, escape the relentless pull of the system. It had started to devour him, bit by bit, till it was all he could think of, all he could perceive.He was losing his grip, and he knew it.The guru's voice came, calm: "Breathe in. breathe out. let your thoughts flow like water. Do not cling to them."Stephen sucked in an enormous breath, then let it slowly out again, as if to expel everything at the same time: the market crash, the system, the deals that went right past him. The tension between him and Enoch was endless. He'd gotten pulled into something so much bigger than he was that he couldn't possibly control it himself, and however hard Stephen fought his way free of it, he felt ensnared.Then, though, as his breathing st