Jayden sat in the grand office, his hands resting on his knees, though he could feel the nervous pulse racing through his fingers. His suit was his best, pressed carefully the night before, and he had rehearsed his words over and over in his mind. This was supposed to be the day he secured everything he had worked for—the recognition, the promotion, and the support to begin his own company. He had even carried with him a piece of personal news he had longed to share.The silence stretched. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked steadily, each sound making his chest rise with anticipation.Across the desk, Mr. Jordan kept his eyes on the papers before him, his expression unreadable. Jayden forced a small smile, willing himself to patience. He imagined telling Emily afterward, imagined her arms around him, and her smile lighting up as she told him she always believed in him.At last, Mr. Jordan raised his head. His gaze was steady, cold, and it sent a chill through Jayden’s hopeful

Jayden lingered on the street outside what had once been his home, the evening shadows stretching long and heavy around him. He felt stranded, powerless, with the faint memory of his son’s cries echoing in his mind but he couldn’t stay there. He needed a roof over his head, at least for tonight. Slinging his bag higher on his shoulder, he set off in search of the nearest motel.Ten minutes later, he found one. The receptionist slid a key across the counter, and soon he was standing at the door of his assigned room. The lock rattled stubbornly before giving way.Inside, the air smelled faintly of damp carpet and old smoke. He dragged his bag across the scuffed linoleum and sank onto the edge of the bed, the thin mattress sagging under his weight.In a single day, everything he had leaned on—his house, his son, Emily—had slipped through his grasp. He had never felt so small, so hollow.Closing his eyes, he tried to let the silence steady him, but his son’s face kept breaking through, b

Jayden sat at the small desk in his motel room, his hands resting heavily on the papers spread before him. The weight of the decision he was about to take pressed heavily on him as he prepared to place his house as collateral for a loan.The thought of walking into a bank the next morning made his heart heavy, yet he told himself he had no other choice. Hiring a lawyer to get his company blueprint back would cost money, and he needed to be prepared if he wanted to fight till the end.The shrill sound of his phone startled him. He glanced down and froze when he saw the name on the screen: Mr. Jordan. His fingers hovered, reluctant to answer, but the weight of curiosity pressed him to accept.“Jayden,” the older man’s voice came through smooth, almost gentle, though Jayden could hear the calculated control behind it.“What do you want?” Jayden’s tone was cold, guarded.“I want to make peace,” Mr. Jordan said slowly. “We have both said and done things in anger, and I’ve had time to re

The evening news played across the wide television in Mr. Wellington’s study, the glow filling the quiet room. He had been going through some documents, but the voice of the news anchor caught his attention. He lifted his eyes and the pen slipped from his hand. On the screen was the face of a man being led out of a hotel room in handcuffs. His clothes were stained, his eyes wide with disbelief, his lips moving in words that were drowned by the sound of reporters shouting questions. The anchor said his name with practiced calm, “Jayden Smith, arrested for the murder of a young woman found dead at the Grand Royal Hotel.”Mr. Wellington leaned forward, his chest tightening. He knew that face. Only a few days ago, he had brushed past that very man at Mr. Jordan’s office. He remembered the brief moment clearly, the apology murmured in passing, the look of intensity in his eyes. At that time he had thought the resemblance was uncanny, so strong that he almost stopped in his tracks. Now,

The morning of the trial felt heavier than any day Jayden had lived through. The sun had risen as it always did, yet he barely noticed it through the narrow window of his cell. When the guards came to lead him out, the chains around his wrists clinked softly, each sound pressing against his chest as though reminding him of what he had become. He was no longer a man, just a prisoner being marched toward judgment. The courtroom was already filled when he entered. People whispered as he passed, some staring openly, others looking away as if he were a creature they feared to look at for too long. He sat down beside his lawyer, Mr. Collins, whose tired eyes and careless posture told him once again that this man had no intention of fighting for him. Jayden swallowed hard, feeling the bitter taste of hopelessness coat his mouth. Emily sat across the room, her presence cutting into him more than the chains. She wore a simple dress, her hair arranged perfectly, her lips curved in a smile