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From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 12. Van Everest
“Only ten in existence? Even those with a net worth of billions might not have the privilege of owning them?!” After hearing the director, the rich woman who was still seated on the cold floor was swallowed up by fear. She felt like something had snapped in her brain and she couldn't understand what was going on anymore. But even at that, she couldn't just accept the fact that a dirty looking kid like Van that was putting on rags would have that kind of money. She pulled herself together and got up to her feet. She turned to face the director, and in her most dignified voice she could find, she said, "Surely you don't believe that this hobo here can actually posses such an enormous about of money. For all we know, the card might be a fake. Or it might just have a similar appearance?What I know is that someone like this shouldn't own something so valuable."Van frowned at the woman's statement. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm not supposed to own something like this?
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 13. Mother Of Two?!
After Van left the bank, he looked at the card in his hand and smiled. When the mad grandpa told him that he was leaving a small sum for him to use, something in his heart told him to expect a large anount, but he wasn't prepared emotionally or mentally for the amount of zeroes he saw. The amount in the account would no doubt be up to trillions. Van knew the mad grandpa was quite wealthy, after all the man was a famous scholar, he just never expected him to have such an amount of money. "Man, you sure are an interesting man." He said, smiling at the clouds. Van thought about what he wanted to do next, then remembering his lunch date with the rich man he saved earlier, he decided that his next stop was the salon. He didn't want to make a bad impression, especially since they were to meet at a luxurious hotel. Having a man like Eric on his side would have its own advantages, and he wouldn't want to mess it up. After a brief contemplation, he decided not to get rid of his long hair c
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 14. Ivy Wilson
After minutes of careful deliberation, Van decided that he was going to meet the woman. He approached the front door and gave it a little knock. “Yes? Who is it?” Van heard her sigh as she walked to the door. Was she doing something important?She pulled the door open and the moment she laid her eyes on Van, there was a slight shift in her composure. “Hi, I don't mean to bother you but, could you tell me who you are?” Van asked in a sober tone, still trying to rack his brain for answers. “I think I should be the one asking that question, don't you? After all, you are standing in front of my apartment." She replied with a warm smile and she rested her hand on her hip. Van couldn't find the words to describe the little woman standing in front of him. Everything about her was utterly flawless. Even her smile was like nothing he had ever seen before. "Right, my bad. My nane is Van Everest. For the past few years you have been helping my mother with your monthly package. You said you w
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 15. Old Classmates
Van had been repeating the name Ivy Wilson, still trying to remember who she was, and what happened between them that made her so hurt, but even after thirty minutes, he still had nothing. "Ugh damnit! Why can't I remember you Ivy Wilson?" He kept walking around in circles, feeling more confused than he had felt in a long time. "Why can't I remember?" He paused his movements and closed his eyes, maybe if he concentrated, something might pop up. He remembered the way she called him a jerk, and she said he ruined her life. That really didn't sound like something he would do. "What the hell is going on?" He muttered to himself. "I wasn't really a jerk to her…or was I? Surely she must have made a mistake of sort." There's no way that he would have hurt any woman, at least not intentionally. His chain of thoughts was scrambled by the sound of a car horn. Looking up, Van came face to face with a new model Rolls Royce. The door to the owners corner opened and a slender woman in an extra
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 16. Lunch Appointment
Van watched in utter disappointment as his old classmates rambled on about their material possessions, not that either of them were as rich as he was presently though. "An idea just came to me Tony." Olivia said, cutting off Tony's words. "Not that I personally care about whatever happens to him but, Van was once our classmate, and now that we have met again after his prison sentence, he clearly has nothing to his name. So I was thinking, why not find him a small position at your company? It could be a messanger or a security, I don't think he's in the position to complain about whatever you decide on."Tony stroked his chin, looking away for a while before he replied. "Hmm…you're right but I'm afraid I can't do that. Olly, did you forget that he's an ex convict? If I hired such a man at my company, don't you think the other staff are going to feel intimidated by him?Besides, it doesn't matter what position I give to him, having an ex convict at my company will definitely stain the
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 17. A Sour Encounter
"If that is a joke, it's a very expensive one." Olivia said, arching her brows at Van. "If you're going to tell a lie, then at least try to find one that's easy to believe. Do you even have any idea who Eric Mochi is?""She's right Van." Tony said. "Allow me to explain, we all know about some people that are billionaires, wealthy people who are respected by the society, but the Mochis are different. Eric Mochi is a fifth generation billionaire, it's like their family has been rich since the dawn of time. From what I heard, they started with a small factory and that business has been growing since the 1900s up till today. It had been passed down the generation for years and now Eric Mochi is the one in charge. Apparently he's one of the very few business owners to have friendly relationship with the president, and other ministers.Getting an appointment at his company is almost impossible, much less getting him to see you personally.""Oh?" Van could tell quite easily that Eric was a
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 18. The Threat
There was a dark look in Van's eyes as he uttered those words and Blanche was almost drowned in a sea of fear. "W-What on earth are you talking about? Who are you to talk about punishing others for their sins?!" She tried to sound as dominant as she did before but her voice was wavering. Regardless of his faded old outfit, Van was different than the person she knew five years ago. Back then, they spoke however they pleased to him and he didn't dare to so much as look them in the eyes, much less talk back at them. That was one of the reasons she didn't mind her daughter getting narried to him, she wanted to have a son in law she could control. He was much different now. But she believed he was still under her in terms of wealth so it gave her the courage to keep going. "You pulled the short straw by being poor and you don't have anyone to blame for that. Tell me, how exactly are you going to punish us? With more of your empty threats?"Just then, Bianca showed up with Moses by her
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 19. New Van
"Go on, beg for it. Isn't that what you came here for? It must be that the money is important to you right? Maybe that mother of yours is ill? Or you have an outstanding debt? I'll take care of everything. All you gotta do, is drop to your pathetic knees and ask." Moses felt like he was taunting Van with his statement but the latter couldn't even be bothered. He watched calmly as Moses kept poking at him with money issues, asking if he needed rent or if his family was just starving. Next to him, Bianca was totally enjoying it. The look on her face showed that she wanted nothing more than to see him humiliated and it left Van to wonder if she truly loved him during their years of courtship. He understood the fact that couples dated and broke up all the time, it wasn't anything special. But if their life for each other was genuine, they would never be able to stand by and watch the other be in a difficult position. "What is going on here? I don't like having a large group in the hall
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220. The Raid
The black SUV tore through the city streets, weaving between cars and running red lights.Rain slapped against the windshield in heavy sheets, turning the world into a blur of lights and shadows.Van sat in the passenger seat, jaw tight, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his knee.Beside him, Keller drove like a man possessed, silent and focused.Carla sat in the back, double-checking the blueprints of the warehouse on her tablet."Franklin and Third," she muttered."Two floors. Old textile plant. Abandoned for years. No security cameras, no neighbors — perfect place to stash someone."Van’s stomach twisted.It was too perfect.He kept flashing back to Vance’s words: If they think you’re coming, they’ll move her—or worse.He couldn't afford to think about what worse meant.Not now.Not when they were this close.They arrived in less than fifteen minutes.The warehouse loomed out of the mist like a dead thing — gray, crumbling, windows shattered, rust eating through the metal doors.
219. Confession
The air inside the van was thick with tension.Julian Vance sat slumped against the wall, wrists cuffed to a metal ring bolted to the floor.The blindfold was gone, but fear had carved deep lines into his face.Sweat soaked through his shirt despite the cold night air.Across from him, Van leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, studying him like a puzzle that needed solving.Keller sat beside Van, silent and looming, while Carla hovered near the door, tablet in hand, recording everything.No one spoke for a long moment.They let the fear do its work first.Vance fidgeted, his eyes darting from face to face, looking for a crack, a kindness.He found none.Finally, Keller broke the silence."You know who we are," he said calmly."You know why you’re here."Vance licked his lips."I—I’m just an accountant," he stammered."I don’t know anything."Keller smiled thinly."You know enough to get yourself killed. Or saved. Your choice."Vance’s hands twisted in the cuffs."I can’t," he whisper
218. The Aftermath
The night was soaked in the heavy stench of gunpowder and rain.Sirens howled in the distance — getting closer — but Agent Keller’s team moved fast.They swept the abandoned lot, securing what little evidence Moses had left behind: a few casings, tire tracks gouged deep into the mud, a broken phone.It wasn’t enough.Moses had disappeared like a phantom into the night, and worse — he had seen through the setup.Van had barely made it out alive.Inside the mobile command van, Keller slammed his fist against the table."Someone tipped him off," he growled."There’s no way he walked into that meeting with backup unless he knew we were coming."Carla sat beside Van, wrapping a makeshift bandage around his bleeding arm.Her hands were steady, but her face was grim.Van winced as the gauze tightened, but he barely felt the pain.His mind was somewhere else.A traitor.Someone inside their circle.Someone who had sold them out to Moses.Keller paced furiously, barking orders into his radio,
217. The Hunt
The plan was simple on paper.Simple, but dangerous.Van stood at the cracked concrete window of a forgotten motel room on the edge of the city, watching the rain smear the world into gray blurs.Inside the room, Agent Keller was setting up equipment — laptops, burner phones, tiny recorders the size of coins — while Carla scribbled notes furiously into a weathered notebook.Van’s nerves hummed under his skin.He wasn’t a cop.He wasn’t a spy.He was just a man trying to survive.And now, somehow, he was about to help bring down one of the most powerful men in the city."Here’s the plan," Keller said, pulling Van’s attention back.He laid out a rough blueprint of the next 48 hours:Van would reach out to Moses — casual, non-threatening — suggest a meeting under the pretense of "burying the hatchet."Offer him information.Play on his paranoia.The idea was to draw Moses out.Get him somewhere isolated.Somewhere they could grab him without witnesses.If they could catch Moses talking —
216. Warehouse Meeting
Van’s mind was spinning as he approached the dilapidated warehouse by the docks.The wind whipped at his coat, the sound of waves crashing against the concrete pier mixing with the distant hum of city traffic.This place had once been a hub of activity, a center of trade and industry.Now, it was just a hollow skeleton, abandoned and forgotten.Perfect.It was the kind of place where you could disappear without a trace.Van approached cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the empty street.The docks were deserted at this hour, save for a few stray cats rummaging through trash.No sign of anyone watching.But he knew better than to assume that meant safety.They were out there.Someone was always watching.His fingers brushed against the rough stone of the warehouse’s exterior as he rounded the corner.A single light flickered above the entrance, casting long, crooked shadows.A thick metal door was ajar, just enough to let him slip inside.Van hesitated for a moment, then pushed it ope
215. Late Warning
The city looked different in the dead of night.From the back of the taxi, Van saw it all pass in a blur — the glimmering skyline, the fog rolling across the river, the endless rows of apartments stacked up like cheap cardboard boxes.But it was the shadows he saw most clearly.The places where people hid their sins.Van rubbed his fingers over the cracked screen of Bianca’s phone.The evidence was still fresh in his mind — too fresh. The videos, the photos, the recordings.He hadn’t even begun to process it all.But he couldn’t stop now.He couldn’t let them win.The taxi rolled to a stop at the airport’s long-term parking lot.Van didn’t get out.Instead, he stared through the windshield at the flickering terminal lights, his thoughts spiraling.Was this it?Was he about to leave everything behind?Ivy, the kids, his life as he knew it?He couldn’t.He wouldn’t.But he also couldn’t stay.He needed allies.Van stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver in cash before walking throug
214. Secrets
Van didn’t go straight home. He knew better. If they were watching him — and after tonight, he was sure of it — bringing danger to Ivy and the kids would be unforgivable. Instead, he drove to a cheap motel on the edge of town, the kind of place nobody asked questions and the cameras were either broken or faked. The neon VACANCY sign buzzed weakly against the rain-soaked sky as Van pulled into the lot. Room 12 smelled like mold and old cigarettes, but it had a lock on the door and curtains thick enough to block the world out. For now, that was enough. He locked the door, jammed a chair under the knob, and dumped the soaked backpack on the stained mattress. He pulled out Bianca’s phone with trembling hands. Still wet. Still cracked. Still hers. Van sat down heavily and got to work. First step: dry the phone. He stripped it carefully, removing the battered SIM card and the microSD tucked into the side. Both small enough to fit in his wallet. He left the phone shell near
213. Hidden Tunnels
The marina was deserted. The storm had driven everyone indoors, and the usual hum of yacht engines and tourist chatter was replaced by the howl of the wind against steel masts. Boats bobbed violently in the dark water, their ropes creaking like dying animals. Van parked three blocks away and approached on foot, keeping to the shadows. The piece of paper with the coordinates was damp in his pocket, but he had already memorized them. The entrance to the old service tunnels wasn’t easy to find. Most people didn’t even know they existed — relics from when the marina had been part of a naval shipyard decades ago. Now, the city had simply built over them, sealing the past under concrete and forgetting. But Van remembered. His father had worked the shipyards once, before everything went wrong. He found the access point tucked behind a rusted utility shed — a heavy steel hatch, half-hidden by tangled vines. He tugged at the handle. Locked. Van gritted his teeth, pulled a crowbar
212. Meeting In The Rain
The storm didn’t let up.It pounded the city in thick, angry sheets, flooding gutters, choking the storm drains, turning alleyways into rivers of filth.Van watched it from the living room window, one hand curled around a cold cup of coffee.He hadn’t slept.He couldn’t.Not with the bloody scrap locked away in his desk drawer.Not with Ivy pretending everything was fine for the kids’ sake.At 2:37 a.m., his phone buzzed again.Unknown Number.Van snatched it up.A text this time.MEET ME.PARKER’S GARAGE. 4AM. COME ALONE.No signature.No instructions.But Van already knew he was going.★★★Parker’s Garage was an old, abandoned auto shop on the east side, gutted years ago after a fire.Van remembered it from his teenage years — a place where kids would go to drink, fight, and hide from the world.He drove through the drowned streets, headlights cutting through the rain like a blade.The city felt deserted, haunted.Every instinct told him this was a trap.He went anyway.He pulled up
