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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.
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 47. Divine Taste
"Well? Has he said anything?" "Obviously not, if he has I would have mentioned it. Wouldn't I?" Bianca was getting irritated. She knew Van must have seen the comment and that he knew what it meant, so why the hell wasn't he trying to reach her?!"Maybe he didn't know it was you." Blanche said. "Of course he does! Rose garden is the place he proposed to me, how on earth would he forget something like that?!""But it has been hours, why havn't we heard anything yet?""I don't know mother! If I did why would I be sitting here, staring at my phone?""Watch your tone woman. Regardless of whatever you might be feeling now, I am still your mother, and I will not tolerate any form of disrespect from you." The woman warned in a stern voice. "I'm sorry. I just don't understand why he's not saying anything. It doesn't make sense!""Patience Bianca. If he doesn't reply tomorrow, then we'll have to send him a message he wouldn't be able to ignore."Bianca didn't know what her mother meent but s
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 48. Truth
"When you were a little boy, you said it was your dream to own a restaurant one day. Everyone laughed when you said it but the next day, you started making drawings of what you wanted it to look like. The designs, the colors, all you. You even came up with the name yourself."As he listened to Fred, Van was hit with a sudden feeling of nostalgia. An image pooped up in his mind, a large dining room, a little boy with his parents and siblings. Was it him?Could that be the night Fred was talking about?Not remembering who he was or what his childhood was like was very frustrating, and Van couldn't help but blame Grace. "Do you remember sire, you made a bet with your father about it.""A bet." Van repeated a if in a daze, trying to dig deep into his memories. "I-It was something about drawing…or am I wrong?""You're not sire. Your father said if you completed your drawings for the restaurant and came up with a good name–""-- he would open it up for me." Van had a blank expression on hi
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 49. An Explanation
Just like that, their learning trip was cut short after just one stop and they headed back to his place. His mother had been spending more time with them because she said she wanted to make up for all the years they were apart. And because she said she didn't trust Grace around her grandkids. When he arrived back home, Grace was the only one around. "Where's Ivy?" Van asked without looking at her directly. "She went out not quite long ago with Sheryl." She paused for a while before she added. "Van, don't you think we need to talk?""Talk?""Yes. You won't even look at me anymore. I understand how you must feel–""No, I don't think you do. You can't simply understand how I'm feeling right now because even I don't know what the fuck I'm feeling! And honestly, I don't think now is the right time for us to do this. I need to get my head straight before I talk to you." "But Van –""No don't! Really just …don't." Van had started to walk away when she yelled out. "I did what I did to pr
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 50. Broken Hearted
Van never thought that she would utter a statement like that. If anything she was supposed to be apologizing profusely for her offense. Before he could stop himself, his body had gone into overdrive and he landed a hard slap across her face. "How dare you?!" He bellowed. "How dare you open your mouth and say that to her? Are you even human at all? Do you not know the gravity of the offense you committed? Under the law this is basically kidnapping, you should be thankful that you live here and not the police station. Do you think I let you stay here because I love you? Hell no!I was only being nice because I know you have nowhere else to go. Everyday we let you live here you are supposed to find new ways to repent for what you did, but instead of doing that, you have the guts to say something so hurtful to my mother?You know, I didn't hate you before…but now I do." He eyed her from head to toe before storming off. After he got to his room, Van dropped to his knees staring down at
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 51. The Meeting
"I asked all of us to have dinner together because I feel we need to talk." Van said after they were all complete. "Earlier today, Fred was telling me about some things and I felt it's time for me to know what actually happened all those years ago. How did my brother and I end up at the orphanage? Why wasn't Macy with us? What was going on at home? I need to know everything.""But Van, the doctor said–""I know what the doctor said mom, but it's my right to know. I'm ready."The woman sighed and started. "That day, Macy and I had gone out to attend a friend's birthday and you boys said you would stay home with your father. While I was there, I got a call from one of the house helps that your father had gotten into a fight with his brother and it was serious. I left Macy with my friend and rushed back home but by the time I got there, the house was on fire and I couldn't find you two. I did my best to search for you, but my efforts were all futile.""Why didn't you go after dad's brot
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 52. A Billionaire
Van arrived at the rose garden ten minutes later than the agreed time. His reason… he just wanted to be late. While they were dating, he was always the one waiting for her and he wanted to turn the table aound for a change. Sure enough when he got there, she was already waiting inside and she even looked anxious. "You came!" She smiled when she spotted him. "Why am I here?" Van wanted to go straight to the point to avoid spending too much time there. "Wow, what's with the cold attitude? Shouldn't you be happy to see me?"Van raised a brow in confusion. What was going on? "I came all the way to see your face and the first thing you say to me is 'why am I here?' that's mean." She pouted and took a step closer to Van. "Are you really trying to say you don't miss me?"She reached out to touch him but he backed away from her. So it was a trap! And in Van's opinion, a rather stupid one. "What is this? Did you call me here just to waste my time? Well, if that's all then I guess I'll be
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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
