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From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 39. Mother?
Van glanced at his mother and she looked away. "What is the doctor talking about?" He asked and she refused to answer. "Talk to me. Tell me! What is the doctor talking about?!"Ivy could see the anger in Van's eyes, but even deeper than that she could see the pain. To find out that the person who raised you, the only family you ever had had been lying to you your whole life. She couldn't imagine how painful it must be. "What do you mean doctor?""Well medically induced memory loss is mostly common in children. When a parent wants their child to forget something, they're taken to the hospital where intense therapy is given to such child. It basically means convincing the child that their memories were nothing but a dream, and to make things easier, a certain pill is given to the child twice every day until the therapy sessions are completed. Now this pill isn't isn't harmful to the child. It's basic function is a sedative to help children suffering from insomnia. But when used frequ
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 40. Secrets
Van's eyes widened when she said that. He immediately turned to the wonan who raised him and she averted her gaze. "You're…my mother?" He asked slowly, staring at the woman standing in front of him. "But…how? The article said you died.""I'm alive, but it's a long story." Almost like she just noticed her, she turned to Van's mother. "Grace? What are you doing here?"The other woman immediately turned her face away. "I think you have me mixed up with another person. I should go now.""What is going on? Do you two know each other?" Van asked. "Yes. That's Grace, she's my best friend…or at least she used to be." "You know my mom? That's not possible, she never told me she had any friends." Van knew his parents fairly well. He knew the people his father worked with, and he barely knew any friends with his mother. "Your what?" The shock on Van's birth mother's face was unmasked. "That can't be possible." The elderly man said. "Van, please forgive me." His mother said again. "Would yo
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 41. True Colors
"You heard what the doctor said, you can't come anywhere near my son." Grace said, blocking Sheryl from going to Van's side. "Your son? Grace, the fact that you are still standing here and not sitting behind a police counter is because I'm waiting for a detailed explanation…and a severe apology from you. How dare you open your mouth and call Van your son?""Were you there for him all these years? Do you have any idea what he struggled with as a kid? What he likes? What he hates? Do you know what his dreams are??You don't!That's because you were never there for him! Even long before I took him in, Sheryl, you were never a good mother. I simply did you a favor by–" Her words were cut short as a hard slap landed on her cheek. She opened her mouth to say something else but she wasn't given a chance as another hard slap landed on her other cheek. "Watch what you say Grace. Don't think for a second that I'm willing to let this slide so easily. Once my son recovers, I'm taking him home,
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 42. A Family Again
"That is Ivy, right? Ivy Wilson?""Yes, that's her.""She's your cousin.""I need to sit down, please come in." He walked back inside at sat at the edge of the bed. "Are you okay?""No, not really. So…so what you're saying is…Ivy and I are related?""Well in a way, yes.""Please explain it properly to me." "Van, are you okay?""No, no I'm not. Ivy can't be my cousin, mom she's the wonan I want to marry! We have kids together! This can't be true."Sheryl knew she was supposed to focus on the discussion at hand but hearing Van call her mom so casually made her heart swell. She smiled and took his hand. "Calm down, okay? She isn't directly your cousin. You see I have two sisters but one is adopted. That adopted sister is Ivy's mother. After she was born, you were always around her, You used to carry her around saying she was your baby–wait, did you say you were getting married?""What?""You said something about getting married and having kids."Van didn't even notice that he had said
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 43. Lunch Date
"Your grandfather started a little advertising business back in the day, Ads for life, or AFL. It wasn't really much but he was very proud of it. After many years of hardwork and dedication, he was able to make a name for himself in the business world. After his passing, your father took over and in less than two years, AFL grew into a company worth billions. He cherished the company more than anything and always dreamed about the day you would also take over, leading the company to glory. Now Van, that time has come."Van sat quietly, staring at his mother. She was asking him to take over a company that was worth billions, a company that apparently meant the world to his late father and grandfather. A company he knew nothing about. "Why can't someone else do it?""What?""Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm trying to run away or anything, it's just…I wouldn't want to mess things up. I don't really know anything about this company and if I took over, I'd want to do a good job at
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 44. Let's Get Married
Van had already suspected that Elaine was going to react aggressively, the only reason he even asked them to come over for lunch was because he wanted her father to witness her attitude for himself. He also chose not to go to a restaurant so he could keep things on the wrap as much as possible. "You just watch me. Just fucking watch! You think I'm just going sit with my tail between my legs?! Huh? What, I'm supposed to say 'oh he said he loves her so I guess that means I've lost.' fuck no!!Elaine Mochi doesn't fucking lose!!Once I make up my mind to do something, then by God I am going to do it!"Van just watched as she kept yelling and ranting, slamming her first on the table every once in a while. He glanced at Eric and his face creased into a frown when he saw the expression on the man's face. The man watched as his daughter went on a rampage with a satisfied look on his face. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and he leaned back into the dining chair, a hint of excitem
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 45. Another Article
The Hartley and Wilson family were gathered together in the home of the latter. Their initial reason for the meeting was to discuss wedding preparations and other things but somehow the conversation derailed completely. "I am telling you Blanche, my son would never do such an outrageous thing." Moses's mother, Rachel yelled. "He is a man of dignity and when he decides to do something, he fully commits to it! You can't just sit there and throw accusations as you please!""Throw accusations? Are you trying to imply that my daughter is the one lying?" Blanche shot back. "She caught him red handed, she saw it happen with her own two eyes! How dare you tell me that she's lying?"Bianca had paid a surprise visit to the hotel that Moses usually frequent but she had never expected to find him in bed with another woman. "Enough!" Moses yelled. "If you have a problem with what I did or who I was with, then you are more than welcome to call off the wedding!" He barked and stormed out of the li
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 46. Wedding Planning
'Van Everest, a victim or a dangerous criminal?'When Van read the headline, he squeezed his hand in a tight fist. Who was this person? And what was his/her intention? What would the person stand to gain by slandering his mame on social media. If Van was a criminal, he would have been scared that his deeds might come into light but since he wasn't, that fear was out the window. Instead the only thing that persisted in his mind was the single question he had been asking himself ever since he saw the first one. Why?The content of the article was basically saying that he was a liar and deserved to go to prison when he did. Rather than an accident, the Fisherman claimed that it had been Van's intention to kill Moses at that time. And just like the first one was posted, there were a whole bunch of hateful comments about him. Underneath all the comments demanding the case be reopened or he received a new sentence, one particular comment seemed to stand out, and it caught Van's eyes.
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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
