Aaron sat hunched over the outdated monitor in the corner of the internet cafe, its hum barely masking the sound of chattering keyboards and muffled conversations. His fingers flew over the keys, pulling up forums and threads, rereading the comment that had burned itself into his brain: “Check the metadata. The logs don’t match.”He scrolled back, following the username that left the comment.Anonymous001. The user’s profile wasn’t flashy. Most posts were just observations, calling out inconsistencies in tech-related scandals. Whoever they were, they knew their stuff. Aaron muttered under his breath, “You might be my only shot.”He glanced over his shoulder for the tenth time in as many minutes. Paranoia was his constant companion now. Every stranger’s glance felt like a potential threat, every shadow a lurking officer. His face, plastered on every news channel, had him living like a ghost. The scent of stale coffee and fried snacks filled the air, grounding him for a moment.Aaron cr

Chapter 13: The TrapAaron slumped into the worn-out armchair of his tiny hideout, his mind reeling from the bombshells Leila had dropped. “Me? Related to a mafia boss?” he muttered, tapping his forehead. “I must be so dumb to even consider it.” He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the quiet room.Suddenly, a pang of guilt washed over him like a cold gust of wind. Images of his mother flashed in his mind: her tired smile, her reassuring words even when things were falling apart. He ran a hand through his hair. “Mum, I’m sorry. I’ll come see you soon,” he whispered to the empty room.Aaron pulled out the burner phone and dialed his mother’s number. It rang once, twice, but there was no answer. A gnawing feeling of unease began to creep in. He tried again. Still nothing.“C’mon, Mum. Pick up,” he muttered, pacing the small room.He tried her number one last time, but when the call went straight to voicemail, his chest tightened. “Something’s wrong,” he realized aloud. Without hesita

Aaron slumped back in his chair at the café, staring blankly at the screen in front of him. His mind was a storm of thoughts, memories colliding and unraveling in chaotic bursts.“I’m so dumb,” he muttered, tapping his forehead repeatedly with his palm. “It was all there. The signs were right there.”Leila glanced up from her laptop, concern etched on her face. “Aaron, you okay?”He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No, Leila, I’m not okay. I just realized my entire life has been a lie. And I was too blind to see it.”Leila closed her laptop and leaned forward. “Talk to me. What signs?”Aaron sighed deeply. “My mom… she was always distant, cold even. When I was a kid, she’d disappear for days, come back with bruises she’d never explain. I remember her late-night phone calls, speaking in hushed tones. And then—” His voice cracked. “Then there was the time Technophile showed me that video of her in that fancy apartment, looking healthier than I’d seen her in years. How did I no

Celeste leaned back in her sleek leather chair, her perfectly manicured fingers drumming on the edge of her desk. The recording of Aaron’s conversation with his mother played on her phone for the third time. Each word, each pause, echoed like a ticking clock in her head.“Giovanni knows,” she muttered to herself, her voice a cold whisper. The realization sent a chill down her spine. For years, she had been the center of Giovanni’s trust, the daughter he groomed to follow in his footsteps. Aaron was a nobody—a threat she had worked tirelessly to neutralize. But now, everything felt like it was slipping out of her control.She slammed her phone onto the desk, her face darkening. "If he knows... why hasn’t he done anything?" she said aloud, her voice trembling slightly.Her personal guard, Marco, standing silently in the corner, spoke up cautiously. “Maybe he’s waiting for the right time. You know how he operates—everything’s calculated.”Celeste’s lips curled into a scornful smile. “Calc

The streets of Toronto buzzed with life, the steady hum of car engines and the occasional honking blending with the chatter of pedestrians. Aaron sat in the passenger seat of Leila’s car, his eyes darting nervously to the side mirrors. Leila gripped the wheel tightly, her eyes scanning the rearview mirror every few seconds. The tension in the air was palpable.“You’re sure no one followed us from the motel?” Aaron asked, his voice barely above a whisper.“I’m sure,” Leila replied, though the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her doubt. “But something feels off. I can’t shake it.”Aaron’s gaze followed hers, and he noticed a man in a beige trench coat standing by a newspaper stand. The man’s head tilted slightly, his eyes fixed on their car for a moment too long before he turned away. Aaron’s stomach churned.“I think he just took a picture,” Aaron muttered, his body tensing. “I saw a flash from his phone. Or a camera. Something.”Leila glanced in the mirror, her brow furrowing. “You