From Shrimp Boy to Slapjack: System Activated

Lost love

The Miami skyline, once a vibrant melody of promise, had morphed into a discordant cacophony of neon accusations. Each clinking coin in my pocket felt like an off-key chime, mocking the gilded cage I'd built around myself. The penthouse, a symbol of Slapjack's triumph, now loomed like a chrome-plated mausoleum, the city lights reflecting distorted memories on its polished surfaces. Even the Whisperer, docked across the bay, seemed to whisper taunts about the dreams I'd abandoned for this opulent exile.

Then, the dissonance was shattered by a jarring ring. It was Anabelle, my sister. My hand hovered over the answer button, apprehension curdling in my stomach. Memories of her words, spoken with practised nonchalance in front of Liam and his entourage, still stung: "Just a friend, Liam. He has nothing but his writing."

Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile and answered. "Anabelle?"

"Ben," her voice crackled with an unfamiliar urgency. "We need to talk."

"What's wrong?" I asked, cautious