"You're late again." Alphonsus stepped through the apartment door, still wearing his work uniform. His polo shirt had a coffee stain on the collar that he had tried to wipe away during his lunch break. He had stopped apologizing for being late months ago. It never changed anything. His wife, Vivian, sat at the kitchen table with her arms crossed. She was still dressed in her office clothes from the marketing firm downtown. Her expensive blouse and tailored trousers looked as immaculate as ever—the kind of outfit that cost more than he earned in a week. Her hair was pulled back tightly, the way she wore it whenever she was angry. "My shift ran over," he explained, setting his work bag beside the door. "The coffee shop was packed, and—" "I don't care about your damn shift. Do as I say." He stopped. He had been about to walk into the kitchen, thinking about the leftovers he had seen in the refrigerator that morning. Chicken and rice. Cold, but better than nothing. "Alphonsus, sit d

The drive home took fifteen minutes. Alphonsus's hands tightened around the steering wheel as he drove. He had just walked away from a job he desperately needed. And for what? To sign divorce papers? To listen to his wife tell him again that he wasn't enough? But there was also the possibility that something else had happened. Vivian's urgency had been different this time. She hadn't sounded angry so much as determined, like someone who had already made up her mind and was ready to move forward. He pulled into the apartment parking lot at 5:47 PM. There were three cars instead of two. He immediately recognized his father-in-law's BMW. It was the same car that had picked Vivian up from their apartment only twice: once on their wedding day, when it took her to the photographer, and once on a weekend when her mother had been visiting. Vivian had once mentioned that the car cost more than his annual salary. Alphonsus remained behind the wheel for a moment, staring at it. Why were her

His phone buzzed at 6:47 AM with a payment reminder from the hospital. Alphonsus opened his eyes on the apartment couch, still wearing yesterday's clothes. For three seconds, before full consciousness returned, the panic of the previous night felt like a dream. Then he checked his bank balance and understood that it was all real. A hundred and forty pounds. His mom's next treatment cycle was due in five days. His rent was due in seven days. He got up and showered in the dark, not wanting to see his reflection. By 7:30 AM, he was at a warehouse on Fifth Street, filling out an application despite the fact that Marcus Webb had already terminated him. This was a different warehouse. The manager who accepted his application didn't even look at his face. "You quit your last warehouse position?" the man asked, reading the form. "I was terminated," Alphonsus replied. The manager's expression hardened. "Why?" "It's complicated." "Not interested in complicated things." He dropped t

Alphonsus almost didn't answer. Something in Eleanor's voice—the certainty, the knowledge, the way she had said that she might have something belonging to her employers—made him pick up the phone instead of letting it ring. "I'm listening," he said. "Good. I'll be direct because I respect your time. There is an object that was in your father's possession. It's extremely valuable to my employers. We believe you may have it or know where it is. If so, we'd like to discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement." Alphonsus tightened his grip on the phone. "I don't know what you're talking about." "Your father's name was..." He hung up. His heart hammered. He set the phone down on the nightstand beside the yellow envelope containing the photograph. Who the hell was this woman? How did she know his father? She didn't just know his father's name; she was obviously working for people looking for him. He thought about calling his mum. But she needed more rest, and whatever this was could wa

Alphonsus didn't acknowledge Eleanor. Instead, he stepped in front of Cindy and their mum, blocking the doorway. “You need to leave. This is a hospital room, not a place of business.” Eleanor didn't seem bothered by his refusal. She simply set her portfolio on a nearby chair and folded her hands. “I can't wait. But, Mr. Jameson, I should tell you that what I have to discuss will affect your entire family. Running from me only delays the inevitable.” A nurse appeared in the hallway behind Eleanor, looking uncertain. “Is everything okay here?” “Yes,” Eleanor said smoothly, turning on a smile. “I was just leaving, Mr. Jameson. I'll be in touch. Very soon.” She left, the security guard following behind her like a shadow. The nurse lingered. “Do you need me to call security?” “No,” their mum said quietly. “We're fine.” But they weren't fine. Ten minutes after Eleanor left, a cardiologist named Dr. Patel came into the room. He wasn't the usual doctor. Alphonsus had never seen him b