Chapter 3

3

Logan turned on his heel, guided Gwen back into the Ferrari, and sped away under the roar of the exhaust.

The reporters dispersed once the drama was over, casting disgusted glances at me as they packed their gear.

My dispatch manager walked over with a scowl and kicked my fallen scooter hard.

“Ethan, are you out of your damn mind?”

“A billionaire offers you five million and you act like a martyr?”

“Get lost! You're fired! You bring nothing but bad luck to this station!”

“Don't bother asking for this week's pay either. Consider it compensation for the trouble you caused me!”

He slammed the door to the office, leaving me standing alone on the empty street.

I picked up the scooter and looked up at the sky.

Rain began to fall, cold drops mixing with the fresh blood on my cheeks and stinging my open cuts.

My cheap burner phone vibrated in my pocket with an unknown number.

When I answered, my elderly landlady's weeping voice came through the speaker.

“Ethan... you need to come clear out your basement right now.”

“A squad of city inspectors just showed up. They said my rental unit violates fire codes and threatened me with massive fines unless I kick you out immediately.”

“I know you're a good kid, but I can't afford this... my grandson needs tuition...”

My grip tightened around the plastic phone until the casing creaked. “I understand, Mrs. Gable. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

I hung up and rode the battered scooter into the pouring rain.

When I arrived at the cramped basement apartment, Mrs. Gable was standing on the curb with an umbrella, wiping away tears.

All my worldly possessions had already been dumped onto the wet asphalt.

A few threadbare shirts, a damp blanket, and a cracked picture frame.

Inside the glass was the only photograph I had left of my parents and me from six years ago.

I knelt in the puddle without a word and shoved everything into a large plastic trash bag.

Mrs. Gable tried to press a crumpled hundred-dollar bill into my palm.

“Take this, Ethan. Buy yourself some hot soup.”

“Those men who came earlier... they were dangerous. Please be careful.”

I pushed the bill gently back into her hand. “Thank you, but you need it more.”

With the heavy trash bag over my shoulder and the broken frame under my arm, I walked into the storm.

The rain grew heavier, and I had nowhere left to go.

The highway overpasses were already packed with homeless encampments.

I finally found an empty bus shelter, huddled in the farthest corner, and shivered in my soaked clothes.

My phone rang again.

This time, Gwen's voice came through the line. “Not having a good night, are you, Ethan?”

“That damp basement wasn't fit for a human anyway. Now that you're out, come over to the estate in the Hamptons.”

“Your mother keeps screaming for your father. The private doctors say only your presence can calm her down.”

“Besides, Logan's acquisition project is running into technical roadblocks. You're the expert. Help him.”

“If you cooperate, I promise your mother will receive the finest medical care. If you don't...”

A shrill, agonizing scream pierced the background of the call.

It was the sound of a heavy sedative being forced into my mother's veins.

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth nearly cracked.

“Give me the address.”

Gwen let out a soft, mocking laugh.

“That's more like it. See how much pain you could have avoided?”

“The Ocean Crest Estate. I'll be waiting for you in the parlor.”