RISE OF OLIVER WILSON

Chapter 07

Oliver Wilson sat on the cold, hard bench of the holding cell, his head leaning against the damp wall behind him. His hands were cuffed tightly in front of him, a harsh reminder of how far his life had spiraled downward. The sterile, fluorescent light above cast a sickly glow, illuminating the grime-streaked walls and the glinting badge of one of the officers standing just outside the cell.

He hadn’t spoken much since his arrest earlier that morning. There was no point. Everything he’d tried to say to explain his innocence had been met with dismissive smirks and curt remarks from the officers. They had made up their minds, and so had Mr. Grant, his former employer—the man who had orchestrated this entire setup.

Oliver’s thoughts churned as he stared at the floor. How had it come to this?

It was just two nights ago that he had slept in the storage room of Grant’s grocery store, clutching the wedding band that no longer meant anything. He remembered leaving the premises before dawn, careful not to disturb anything or anyone. And yet, when he arrived at the store this morning to begin another long shift, he was greeted not with a mop and bucket, but with handcuffs.

Mr. Grant had stood there, his face twisted in a smug sneer as two officers accused Oliver of breaking into the store after hours and stealing money from the office safe. The accusations came with damning evidence: grainy CCTV footage showing Oliver entering the building late at night.

Of course, the footage didn’t capture the whole truth—that he had stayed in the storage room to avoid sleeping on the streets. It didn’t matter. The narrative had already been shaped to paint him as a thief, and no one cared enough to look deeper.

“Still pretending you don’t know anything, Wilson?” one of the officers called out, breaking Oliver’s trance.

Oliver turned his head slightly, his jaw tightening. “I told you the truth. I didn’t take anything.”

The officer snorted, crossing his arms. “Yeah, sure. You just happened to sneak into your boss’s store after hours for a midnight nap, right? Real convincing.”

Oliver bit back the urge to snap at him. Anger wouldn’t help him here. He had learned that much during his years with the Taylors.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder with each step. Oliver looked up as Mr. Grant appeared, flanked by two more officers. The man’s self-satisfied grin made Oliver’s blood boil.

“Mr. Grant,” one of the officers greeted, stepping aside to let him approach.

“Gentlemen,” Grant replied smoothly, his voice dripping with false authority. He turned to Oliver, his smile widening. “I see you’re settling in nicely.”

Oliver rose to his feet, his fists clenched in front of him. “You know I didn’t steal from you.”

Grant’s grin faltered for a moment, replaced by a mocking look of surprise. “Steal? Why would I accuse you of such a thing unless I had proof? The CCTV doesn’t lie, Oliver. And neither does the empty safe in my office.”

“I never went near your office,” Oliver shot back, his voice steady but edged with frustration.

“Is that so?” Grant’s tone was light, almost playful. “Then how do you explain the fingerprints on the safe? Or the missing cash?”

Oliver’s stomach dropped. Fingerprints? He hadn’t touched anything in the office, let alone the safe. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—this wasn’t just a misunderstanding. It was a setup.

“Someone must have planted them,” Oliver said quietly, his voice low but firm.

Grant laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. “Planted them? That’s a good one, Wilson. Really. But let’s be honest here—you’ve been nothing but a liability since the day I hired you. No skills, no ambition, no future. You should be thanking me for giving you a chance at all.”

Oliver’s fists tightened, his knuckles turning white. “You’re lying,” he said through gritted teeth.

Grant stepped closer, his expression turning cold. “You want to play the victim, fine. But let me give you some advice, kid. The world doesn’t owe you anything. You think people like me get to where we are by playing fair? Grow up.”

The officers exchanged glances, one of them stepping forward. “Alright, that’s enough. Back away, Mr. Grant.”

Grant raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking as he stepped back. “Of course. Just trying to help him see the bigger picture.”

Oliver glared at him, his chest heaving with barely contained rage. Every fiber of his being wanted to lunge at the man, to wipe that smug grin off his face. But he forced himself to stay still. Losing his temper would only give them more ammunition against him.

As Grant turned to leave, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Wilson? Don’t bother calling a lawyer. You can’t afford one.”

With that, he walked away, his laughter fading into the distance.

Oliver sank back onto the bench, his mind racing. He had no proof to counter Grant’s lies, no one to vouch for him, and no resources to fight back. The Wilson name might have carried weight once, but he had abandoned that life years ago. Now, he was just another nobody in the eyes of the law.

But even as despair threatened to take hold, a spark of determination ignited within him. He wouldn’t let this be the end of his story.