The drive back to the safe house felt longer than usual.Traffic crawled. Horns sounded. People argued in the streets. Life moved like nothing was wrong.But inside Richard’s head, everything felt louder.Sean’s voice replayed again and again.Forty-eight hours.He parked. Took a breath. Went inside.Victor looked up first.“You saw him.”Richard nodded.Andrew straightened.“How bad?”Richard took off his jacket slowly.“He didn’t threaten. He didn’t shout. He didn’t show off. That’s what makes it bad.”Diane walked closer.“What did he say?”Richard looked at all of them.“He gave us time. Two days. Then he stops playing.”Andrew frowned.“Two days to do what?”“Either pull back…” Richard said quietly, “…or be ready to bleed.”Silence landed like a heavy stone.Victor turned to his screens.“So he’s testing boundaries. Mapping responses. He wants to know if we fear him.”Richard nodded.“Yes. And he watched everything. The house. The street. Escape paths. He’s building a picture.”A

Morning did not come gently this time.It came with noise. Phones. Notifications. Buzzing. Ringing. Voices.Victor was already awake before the sun touched the curtains. He sat stiff, headphones on, eyes sharp, face pale.Andrew dragged himself up from the couch and rubbed his face.“What now?” he muttered.Victor didn’t answer.Richard stepped in quietly, like he had never slept at all.Diane followed, tying her hair, worried already.Kathleen sat with a blanket around her shoulders. Her eyes were swollen. She must have cried sometime during the night.Victor finally spoke. “It dropped.”Richard nodded once. “Show me.”The article was everywhere already. Not small anymore. Not quiet.Screens lit up with copies, blogs, news pages, gossip sites, social media. Same headline. Same poison.A SAINT WITH DIRTY HANDS?HIDDEN MONEY. HIDDEN DEALS. HIDDEN TRUTH.Photos of Gerald shaking hands. Photos of Kathleen cutting ribbons. Smiling. Helping people.And under the pictures:Doubt. Suspicion.

Morning arrived like a visitor who didn’t knock. It slipped in quietly and sat down with them, heavy and unwelcome. No one greeted it. Victor was the first awake again. He hadn’t slept more than an hour. His eyes were red, fingers stiff as he scrolled through feeds, private channels, and shadow forums. The noise outside had gone down overnight, but the feeling inside the room had not eased. It felt like standing on ice that had begun to sing. Andrew shuffled in, stretching his arms. “Anything new?” Victor nodded once. “Yes. And no.” Andrew sighed. “You always say that before something bad.” Richard entered behind him, already dressed. He hadn’t removed his watch all night. “Tell me,” Richard said. Victor turned the screen toward him. “No new articles. No fresh accusations. But… influence is shifting.” Diane came in quietly and stood beside Richard. Kathleen followed, slower this time, wrapped in a cardigan that looked too big for her. “Influence?” Diane asked.

Morning came with a heavy sky.Clouds hung low, thick and gray, like they were pressing down on the city. It felt as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to explode.Richard stood by the window in the living room, arms folded, eyes fixed on the road outside. He had not slept. None of them had, not really. The house was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that buzzed, full of unspoken fear and thoughts moving too fast.Behind him, Andrew paced back and forth.“He wants to meet,” Andrew said again, like saying it might make it less dangerous. “Just like that. After everything.”Victor sat on the arm of a chair, laptop open but forgotten. “Not just a meeting. A controlled environment. Neutral location. No press. No third-party witnesses.”Diane hugged her arms around herself. “That’s never neutral.”Kathleen stood near the doorway, listening. She looked tired, but her back was straight, her chin lifted.“What does he want?” she asked quietly.Richard turned t

The elevator ride down felt longer than the ride up.No one spoke.Kathleen’s tears had slowed, but her face was pale. Diane kept holding her, rubbing her back gently. Andrew stared at the numbers above the door as if willing them to move faster. Victor’s jaw was tight. Richard stood still, hands in his pockets, eyes dark and thoughtful.When the doors finally opened, the cool air of the parking lot rushed in. It felt like freedom, but also like exposure.They walked to the car.As soon as they got in, Victor’s phone rang again.He answered it, listened for a few seconds, then his face changed.“Put it on speaker,” Richard said.Victor did.A trembling voice filled the car. It was one of Kathleen’s church friends, Mrs. Howard.“Kathleen… is that you?” the woman asked, her voice shaking.“Yes,” Kathleen replied softly. “I’m here.”“Oh thank God,” Mrs. Howard cried. “The police just came to the church. They asked about the donation accounts. They said there’s an investigation. People ar