“John!” Joe called out as he realized who the figure standing close to his car was. “What are you doing here?” Joe asked, not removing his eyes from Him. John looked at Joe pulling himself away from the car. “I went by your office to check on you. They said you were here, so I thought I’d drop by.” Joe raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his surprise. “So, you came all the way here?” John smiled slightly. “I did. Actually, I wanted to take you out for a bit and help you relax. You’ve been through a lot lately, and the last thing you need is to stay cooped up in the office.” Joe considered his words and at that moment , he realized that Timothy was right. The weight of the break-in, the tension with Mr. Adam, and everything else had started to wear on him. A break might actually do him some good. “You’re right,” he admitted. “So, where do you have in mind?” “There’s a place I know at Walters. It’s a cozy spot, nothing fancy, but they have an amazing rooftop.” John said. “Sounds
Joe held the phone to his ear, waiting for the voice he hadn’t heard in far too long. Finally, there was a click, followed by a gruff voice on the other end. "Joe?" Jerry said, the tone colder than Joe had hoped for. "Long time no see, or call, or text." “Jerry,” Joe started. "I know you're angry, but it’s not what it looks like." "Then explain it to me," Jerry spat back. “You got rich and just forgot about me, huh? I’ve seen you in all those business articles, making waves. But I guess you were too busy even to send a text?” Joe sighed, realizing that no excuse was going to make this right. After a long pause, he finally said, "I'm sorry, Jerry. I should have reached out." "Ya think?" Jerry muttered, the bitterness clear in his voice. “Please,” Joe said, feeling the weight of the guilt settle in. “Forgive me.” Silence stretched on the line, lasting so long that Joe began to wonder if he’d lost the call. Finally, Jerry spoke with a soft voice. “The only way I’m forgiving you
The hard-faced man Joe assumed was Puck walked towards him. At every step, he glared over his shoulder until he got closer to Joe’s car. He tapped the window, and Joe opened it. “Puck!” Joe said slowly, and the guy nodded. “You must be Jerry’s friend.” He said. “Yes, I am,” Joe replied. “I called you about Victor.” “I remember vividly,” Puck said. “So, what type of business do you want with him?” “I’m searching for a supplier,” Joe said in a slow tone; he knew he had to be careful with his words; any wrong word he said would send the puck back to his hiding spot. “You know, you don’t have to go to the big guys to get the good stuff,” Puck said. “I have anything you need.” “I prefer Victor,” Joe said with a straight face. “Since you won’t help me find him, I would be on my way.” “No, wait!” He said, calling Joe’s attention. Joe shifted uneasily as he faced Puck through the open car window. "I’d help you," Puck said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "But it comes with a
The next day arrived, and all Joe wanted to do was relax and forget about his encounter with Victor. But as he sat in his office, Victor’s words kept ringing in his head. How could the answers he was looking for be in the estate? And if he was right where does he start looking? “Sir!” A knock on the door caught Joe’s attention. Joe adjusted himself. “Come in," he called, and his eyes returned to the paperwork scattered in front of him. The door creaked open, and Jeremy stepped inside, clutching a small brown envelope. "Sir, this just came in for you," he said, and his words made Joe lift his head. Joe looked up and nodded, reaching out his hand. "Thanks, Jeremy." He took the envelope, and Jeremy turned, leaving the office without a second glance. The moment the door clicked shut, Joe's curiosity turned to dread. Something about the envelope felt off. Then, he noticed the trademark at the bottom. “This was another death threat.” He said to himself. With a deep breath, he
Joe's hand shook as he stared down at the paper. It was identical to the one he’d received earlier—same handwriting, same eerie message, and the words that made his blood run cold: ‘Tick-tock, Joe. Time’s running out.’. But as he looked closer, something caught his eye. This note wasn’t addressed to him. It was addressed to his father. Joe’s stomach tightened, and a rush of questions flooded his mind. His father had been receiving the same threats, and Joe wondered just how long these letters had been haunting him. Could this be connected to his father’s death? Had the same person been behind his death and was now coming for Joe? The panic began to take over. He would find out who was behind this, no matter what it took. Driven by the need to know more, he began searching through the study, pulling open drawers and rifling through shelves. A stack of envelopes, all marked with the same threatening handwriting, fell into his hands. The door creaked, and Joe froze. Without thinki
Joe reluctantly approached the table, stealing a glance at lady Penelope’s guest. The woman gazed at Joe, before she quickly looked away. John looked at Lady Penelope, and when he got closer, he wrapped her in a hug. They exchanged warm smiles and immediately they pulled away Lady Penelope spoke up, "I thought you’d forgotten all about me." She said in a slow tone. Joe shook his head, smiling apologetically. "How could I? I’ve just been so busy with the family business." Lady Penelope’s face softened. "I know you have, and I'm just teasing you. I heard about the break-in. I’m glad nothing was taken."Joe smiled instead of responding , the memory of that unsettling night flickering through his mind. "How are the investigations going?" she asked, with a concerned tone. "The police are still on it, and they haven’t updated us yet," Joe replied. "I hope they catch whoever is behind it," she said earnestly. "So do I," he murmured, his eyes flickering away from hers, landing on th
Joe looked at Hannah with a stunned expression, though he quickly tried to mask it. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," he said, forcing a casual tone and averting his eyes. He couldn't let her see how rattled he was; this was because he didn’t want to get involved with her, especially when it came to this issue. Hannah’s gaze remained on Joe. "You can play dumb all you want, but I’m not buying it, Joe." Her voice was sharp, and she sounded angry. "I’m searching for answers about my father’s death, too, and I know you’re doing the same." Joe clenched his jaw. He wanted to speak so badly, but a part of him warned him not to. Instead, he moved toward his car, opening the door quickly. "I’m not searching for anything, Hannah," he replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. He looked up at her, forced a polite but empty smile, and added, "Good luck finding out who killed your father." He turned the key in the ignition, and he was about to pull out of the driveway when her vo
When Joe arrived at his office, the minute he stepped in, he noticed that Hannah was leaning casually against the wall. She met his eyes with a half-smile, which Joe failed to return. "I was hoping you'd text me back quickly," she said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Since you didn’t, I thought I’d check up on you in person."He stopped a few feet away from her, crossing his arms. "You don’t know when to quit, do you?"Her eyes glinted. "I don’t quit easily when there’s something worth fighting for.""And what exactly do you think is worth fighting for here?" he challengedShe leaned closer, her expression hardening. "Answers, Joe. The same ones you’re looking for." He felt his defenses weaken slightly. She had the same drive and the same need for answers as he did. Sadly, he didn’t want her involved in his personal issue.“You’re getting this wrong Hannah.” Joe said and the next word that spilled out of his lips were lies.“I’m not in looking for anything; meaning I don’t need your he
“You’re going to be our eyes and ears,” John said flatly, as he flickered his gun about. “You’ll let us know every move the Sanchez gang makes before they make it. Got it?” The man’s eyes widened in panic. “I can’t do that! If they find out—if they even suspect—I’m dead! My family’s dead!” John didn’t flinch. He lowered the gun slightly, only to press it firmly against the man’s chest. “If you don’t do what I’m telling you, you’ll be dead a lot sooner.” The man froze, trembling under the cold weight of John’s words. “It’s better you just kill me now,” he said hoarsely, his voice cracking. John sighed, the frustration was very clear in his voice. “You’re not thinking straight. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about your family and your life.”The man didn’t say a thing, and John leaned forward. “Don’t you get it! We are offering you an opportunity here.”“That doesn’t sound like an opportunity.” The man said in a flat tone. “Just kill me like I said before.”“For the lo
The car rolled to a quiet stop, its headlights cutting through the darkness of the neighborhood. Rusty buildings lined the empty streets. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional shuffle of rats scurrying through the debris. Joe sat in the passenger seat, his brows furrowed as he stared out at the scene in front of him. “This doesn’t look safe,” Joe muttered under his breath. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” John, sitting behind the wheel, didn’t look half as worried. He leaned back in his seat, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What, are you scared?” he teased. Joe shot him an annoyed look. “I feel like I’ve walked into the lion’s den. Don’t you think we’re being a little reckless?” John waved off the concern with a hand. “Relax, Joe. Nothing’s going to happen. Besides, if you’re scared, you can stay in the car. Hide out here while I do all the work.” Joe narrowed his eyes. “I’m not staying in the car. That’s not happening.” John chuckled
Joe stared at the screen, as his hands moved swiftly across his screen. Once the message was sent he turned to John. “Done!” John smiled. “Good!” “What do we do now?” Joe asked. “We wait for his reply.” John said, in a low tone. John sighed, staring at the open sky. Him and John didn’t say anything, for what felt like minutes until John decided to break the silence. “Any messages?” Joe pulled out his phone which he had kept in his pocket. The dim light from his phone screen illuminated his face as he stared at the message he had sent to Victor minutes ago. Victor hadn’t replied the text and Joe informed John about it. “We would just have to wait a little.” John said. Minutes passed. Then half an hour. Still no reply. Joe sighed and tossed his phone into his pocket , rubbing his temples. “Any word yet?” John’s voice rose. Joe shook his head, glancing up at him. “No. Nothing.” John folded his arms, leaning forward , before speaking. “Well, you texted him. That’s a fir
“So, where exactly are we going?” Joe asked, in a firm tone John kept his eyes on the road, gripping the wheel confidently. “You’ll see.” Joe frowned slightly, shifting in his seat. “You’ve been driving for almost an hour, John. You took the wheel like you had somewhere specific in mind.” John smirked faintly but didn’t look at him. “I do.” “And where is that?” Joe pressed, turning his head toward him. John’s jaw twitched as though he was mulling over his response. “Just wait and see how.” Joe let out a small, tired laugh. “I don’t think I have that patient.” “Well, too bad,” John said firmly. “It looks like you’re going to have to acquire a bit of patience today.” Joe shook his head, staring back out the window. “This is worse than standing in line for ice-cream.” “What a nice way to describe this moment,” John said in a corky tone and Joe wasn’t buying his corkiness in fact he didn’t like it, but he didn’t say anything. The car kept rolling, and it felt like they were dri
When Joe rounded the corner, the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks. Mr. Adam was there, sleeves rolled up, fists bloodied. Two men—beaten to a pulp—were slumped against the wall, barely conscious. Mr. Adam’s face was a storm of fury as he grabbed one of them by the collar and hoisted him up, delivering another brutal punch to his ribs. The man cried out, while his companion looked on with fear in his eyes. “Mr. Adam!” Joe shouted, stepping forward. “That’s enough!” Mr. Adam didn’t look up, his chest heaving as he pinned the man against the wall with one arm. “Stay out of this, Joe,” he growled. “I’m not done.” Joe, undeterred, moved closer. “I said enough!Look at them! They’re done. You’re going to kill them if you keep this up.” Mr. Adam finally turned his head toward Joe. “Maybe that’s what they deserve.” Joe stood his ground, his voice was firm as he spoke. “They’re just pawns, Adam. This isn’t going to solve anything.” Mr. Adam released the man, who dropp
The days leading up to the launch party for Joe’s new corporation were filled with relentless work, late nights, and endless planning. The fact that things had been stable contributed to making Joe’s planning easier. There were no threats, no near misses, and no weird messages. Life, for a brief moment, felt… calm. This made Joe feel relaxed. A day before the launch, Joe and John drove to the new corp’s headquarters to finalize preparations. The building itself was modern and striking—sleek lines of glass and steel that gleamed in the sunlight. As Joe stepped out of the car, his gaze swept across the building, and a rare smile tugged at his lips. John stood beside him, hands in his pockets, and observed Joe’s quiet pride. “You know,” John began, breaking the silence, “your father would be proud.” Joe turned to him, a small laugh escaping. “You think so?” “Yeah,” John said sincerely. “Not just proud, Joe—he’d be impressed. You’re doing something he never could. You’re tur
The day of John’s mother’s remembrance was quiet and intimate, just as John had wanted. The house was transformed into a warm and welcoming space with simple decorations—a few family photographs, candles, and flowers placed strategically around the living room. Lady Penelope was among the first to arrive, dressed elegantly in a navy blue dress. She greeted John with a tight hug, expressing her condolences. “I told you she was the best of the best.” Lady Penelope said after freeing John from her hug. Her eyes were on Joe, who immediately understood what she was talking about. “Madeline did a good job.” He said. “I’m really happy that things turned out well.” John looked between the two. “I’m lost here.” “Lady Penelope had referred me to the event planner who decorated the house.” Joe said. Without hesitation John thanked Lady Penelope, who waved off his thanks letting him know she was just helping. When John and lady Penelope stepped inside, Joe stood at the entrance, ensurin
Joe wandered aimlessly through the house the next day each room feeling more suffocating than the last. He shuffled through the house, aimlessly moving from one room to the next. He felt restless, like he couldn't find a place where he could sit still. His thoughts kept circling back to everything that had happened—his father, the gang, Hannah, the endless pressure. The walls of the house felt like they were closing in on him. As he walked into the study, something caught his eye. Tucked in the corner of the room, almost hidden beneath a pile of books, was a scarf. It was a soft, pale blue fabric. He recognized it immediately as Hannah’s. His heart lurched in his chest. He stood there for a moment, staring at it, and then the weight of it seemed to drop on him. His mind flashed back to all the time they spent together, the conversations, the moments that seemed to matter. But that was over now. He had to let go. "Roland!" Joe called out, his voice rough. Roland appeared almos
The day started like any other for Joe, with him arriving at the office early to tackle a packed schedule. He greeted Jeremy, and moved through the lobby, his focus already on the list of meetings he had ahead. But as he approached his office, his steps slowed. Something was out of place—a box sat on the floor right in front of his door. Joe frowned. Packages weren’t unusual, but this one was different. It was unmarked, plain brown, with no indication of where it came from. His instincts kicked in, a chill creeping down his spine. "Jeremy!" he called out in a sharp voice. Jeremy appeared almost instantly, confusion etched on his face. "Yes, Mr. Whitmore?" "What is this?" Joe pointed at the box. Jeremy looked at it, puzzled. "I don’t know. It wasn’t there when I got here." Joe’s unease deepened. "Has anyone checked this? Who delivered it?" "I’ll check with security," Jeremy said quickly, already pulling out his phone. Joe debated waiting but decided against it. He cr