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From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 03. The Debt
With the help of his personal chauffer, Van was finally able to locate his mother's house. His heart sank in his chest when he saw the old, beat up house his mother lived in. When Van was arrested, he felt he didn't have much to worry about, since he had already bought a house he would live in with his wife after their wedding. And Bianca came from a good home, so he thought his mother would get by just fine. However, if Bianca had been unfaithful right from the onset, he wondered how his mother's life would have been for the whole five years he was gone. "Mom, I'm so sorry you had to live such a tough life because of me." He muttered to himself. "I swear I'm going to make it all better." Remembering Bianca and Moses, he clenched his fists tightly and his lips was pulled together tightly. He couldn't just let them get away with their actions just like that. At that moment, he saw a woman parking her electric bicycle just outside the gate. She was wearing a helmet, and appear
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 04. A Warning
Van felt disgusted by the Wilson family. Sending him to fifteen years in prison wasn't enough, they had to be compensated as well? "My question still stands. How much?" He said with a frown. "They demanded a sum of four hundred grand. Your wife was so generous, she offered to pay half of it by using her house, and your mother was supposed to raise the rest, but everytime we come to collect, all she gives us is f*ucking change! We're not beggars you know." Four hundred thousand, if Bianca really wanted to pay for the compensation, the cost of the house would have covered it. Since he bought it for five hundred thousand. "How much has my mother paid so far?" "It's really pitiful because your mother hasn't been able to raise up to forty grand in the space of five years. The Wilsons are already tired of receiving change, they want the rest of their money." "Well at least the son is back from prison now," one of the henchmen said, eyeing Van. "He can help her with the payment, unle
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 05. Home.
As Van made his way back to the house, he discovered that his mother had gone out to the gate to look around for him because she was worried that something might have happened to him. As soon as she saw spotted him on his way back, she immediately walked over with a worried face and held his hand while asking hurriedly, “Are you alright, dear? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” She examined his body, checking everywhere to see if he was hurt. Van felt his heart grow warm and he smiled at his mother, who was standing a feet shorter than he was. “Don’t worry, Mom. They didn’t hurt me. I took them to an ATM and withdrew the balance for them. They won’t be bothering us anymore for money.” “Really?" She exclaimed, then asked. "You’re not lying to me, are you? Where did you even get such a huge amount of money? We're talking about more than a hundred thousand!” She was having a hard time believing that her son had that amount of money with him, especially since he had just been released fr
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 06. Single Time Friend
"Mom," Van said after their dinner. "Do you think I should sue Bianca?" "What? Of course not! Van, the past is the past, let's just bury it and move on." His mother complained with a sour face. "You know how scary the rich can be, why would you want to mess with them again? What will make me happy is to see you living a normal life in the sociery. Going to work, or to football games with your friends, planning dates with your girlfriend. That is what I want for you." "But mom, do you really want to let them get away with what they did to us? It's not fair. I know how hard you and I had to work before we could buy that house. It was supposed to be our forever place. Am I really supposed to just turn a blind eye to the fact that it belongs to them now? And what about the money I paid for the bride price? I had never heard of paying bride price before the wedding but I did, a hundred thousand dollars! Am I supposed to just let that go too?" "I know what you mean my dear. Truth
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 07. A Promise
"You see son, after you were imprisoned, your aunts and uncles all avoided me like a plague. They said they didn't want anything to do with the mother of a delinquent son. I knew that they were only avoiding me because of the compensation we had to pay the Wilsons though." His mother had three siblings, and they were all doing well, so he had hoped that at least one of them would have lended a helping hand to his mother. "When I turned to them for assistance, they all came up with lame excuses. Your uncle Joseph wouldn't even see me at all, telling me he had traveled every single time I reached out to him. Eventually I stopped, and decided to hustle for myself. When I had given up hope, you father's old friend was the one who came to my rescue. He is also struggling and yet he managed to raise a sum of five thousand dollars to help me pay from the debt. He also makes sure to check in on me from time to time. But I haven't seen him in about three months now because he is away
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 08. Saving A Life!
"Help, my husband is having a heart attack!" A woman that looked clearly expensive cried out for help. Her husband looked like he would be in his late forties or early fifties. Next to the woman was a young girl in a suit, probably their daughter, and judging from the outfits they had on, and the expensive jewelries and accessories, it was easy to conclude that they were a rich family. Van rushed over to the man and his family, kneeling next to the woman. "Let me check him." He offered and wasted no time in examining the man's body. He was unconscious, but he had a pained expresssion on his face, almost like he had been hurt before passing out. Van checked his neck and wrist, but felt no pause. "Give me your coat now!" He ordered in a tone of urgency. "But it's expensive." The young girl complained. Ignoring her daughter's attitude, the wonan immediately rushed to the car and came back with a luxurious fur coat. "Here you go." He folded it and placed it under the man's head. "H
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 09. A Medical Wizard!
A look of surprise flashed across Elaine's eyes. She couldn't believe the young man in front of her. How could someone who looked so measerly reject the sum of two hundred thousand?She started to think that maybe she might have misjudged him. Of course, she wouldn't admit that. “Can’t you just drop that already!” She replied harshly, trying to hide her surprise.“Is that any way to talk to our new friend?" The man glared at his daughter. Then he smiled and said to Van, “I have a suggestion, young man. Since you don’t want the money, perhaps you'd allow me to buy you lunch? I have to at least do sometjing to repay you. And of course, you'll get a proper apology from my daughter."Seeing tbat the man was sincere with his request, Van decided to accept his invitation. Any more refusal and it might come off as being rude. After all, other people wouldn't even spare him a second glance and here he was, smiling at him. "Then I guess my lunch is on you.” Van said with a small smile. “Ex
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 10. The Bank
Elaine still couldn't get Van out of her head. It was still a shock that someone who looked so poor could possess such amazing skills. But something was still unclear to her. If he was such a talented man, why was he dressed like that?"Father, why do you think he was dressed like that?" She asked, looking confused. "If he's really a doctor, he should be rich right?""Well that's the thing, he might not be a doctor. Have you seen a doctor without a medical license? My guess is that he must be a scholar.""A…scholar?""Yes. Maybe he's undergoing some kind of training. You know how complicated the minds of philosophers are. No one can fully understand them, all we can do is make our guess.""But what form of training would require him to be in such an outfit?" Elaine didn't understand. "You know the Oakland neighborhood is a small one, people like us hardly ever go there. But philosophers like him might want to go undercover. They tend to bend their nature to fit whatever aspect their
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220. The Raid
The black SUV tore through the city streets, weaving between cars and running red lights.Rain slapped against the windshield in heavy sheets, turning the world into a blur of lights and shadows.Van sat in the passenger seat, jaw tight, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his knee.Beside him, Keller drove like a man possessed, silent and focused.Carla sat in the back, double-checking the blueprints of the warehouse on her tablet."Franklin and Third," she muttered."Two floors. Old textile plant. Abandoned for years. No security cameras, no neighbors — perfect place to stash someone."Van’s stomach twisted.It was too perfect.He kept flashing back to Vance’s words: If they think you’re coming, they’ll move her—or worse.He couldn't afford to think about what worse meant.Not now.Not when they were this close.They arrived in less than fifteen minutes.The warehouse loomed out of the mist like a dead thing — gray, crumbling, windows shattered, rust eating through the metal doors.
219. Confession
The air inside the van was thick with tension.Julian Vance sat slumped against the wall, wrists cuffed to a metal ring bolted to the floor.The blindfold was gone, but fear had carved deep lines into his face.Sweat soaked through his shirt despite the cold night air.Across from him, Van leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, studying him like a puzzle that needed solving.Keller sat beside Van, silent and looming, while Carla hovered near the door, tablet in hand, recording everything.No one spoke for a long moment.They let the fear do its work first.Vance fidgeted, his eyes darting from face to face, looking for a crack, a kindness.He found none.Finally, Keller broke the silence."You know who we are," he said calmly."You know why you’re here."Vance licked his lips."I—I’m just an accountant," he stammered."I don’t know anything."Keller smiled thinly."You know enough to get yourself killed. Or saved. Your choice."Vance’s hands twisted in the cuffs."I can’t," he whisper
218. The Aftermath
The night was soaked in the heavy stench of gunpowder and rain.Sirens howled in the distance — getting closer — but Agent Keller’s team moved fast.They swept the abandoned lot, securing what little evidence Moses had left behind: a few casings, tire tracks gouged deep into the mud, a broken phone.It wasn’t enough.Moses had disappeared like a phantom into the night, and worse — he had seen through the setup.Van had barely made it out alive.Inside the mobile command van, Keller slammed his fist against the table."Someone tipped him off," he growled."There’s no way he walked into that meeting with backup unless he knew we were coming."Carla sat beside Van, wrapping a makeshift bandage around his bleeding arm.Her hands were steady, but her face was grim.Van winced as the gauze tightened, but he barely felt the pain.His mind was somewhere else.A traitor.Someone inside their circle.Someone who had sold them out to Moses.Keller paced furiously, barking orders into his radio,
217. The Hunt
The plan was simple on paper.Simple, but dangerous.Van stood at the cracked concrete window of a forgotten motel room on the edge of the city, watching the rain smear the world into gray blurs.Inside the room, Agent Keller was setting up equipment — laptops, burner phones, tiny recorders the size of coins — while Carla scribbled notes furiously into a weathered notebook.Van’s nerves hummed under his skin.He wasn’t a cop.He wasn’t a spy.He was just a man trying to survive.And now, somehow, he was about to help bring down one of the most powerful men in the city."Here’s the plan," Keller said, pulling Van’s attention back.He laid out a rough blueprint of the next 48 hours:Van would reach out to Moses — casual, non-threatening — suggest a meeting under the pretense of "burying the hatchet."Offer him information.Play on his paranoia.The idea was to draw Moses out.Get him somewhere isolated.Somewhere they could grab him without witnesses.If they could catch Moses talking —
216. Warehouse Meeting
Van’s mind was spinning as he approached the dilapidated warehouse by the docks.The wind whipped at his coat, the sound of waves crashing against the concrete pier mixing with the distant hum of city traffic.This place had once been a hub of activity, a center of trade and industry.Now, it was just a hollow skeleton, abandoned and forgotten.Perfect.It was the kind of place where you could disappear without a trace.Van approached cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the empty street.The docks were deserted at this hour, save for a few stray cats rummaging through trash.No sign of anyone watching.But he knew better than to assume that meant safety.They were out there.Someone was always watching.His fingers brushed against the rough stone of the warehouse’s exterior as he rounded the corner.A single light flickered above the entrance, casting long, crooked shadows.A thick metal door was ajar, just enough to let him slip inside.Van hesitated for a moment, then pushed it ope
215. Late Warning
The city looked different in the dead of night.From the back of the taxi, Van saw it all pass in a blur — the glimmering skyline, the fog rolling across the river, the endless rows of apartments stacked up like cheap cardboard boxes.But it was the shadows he saw most clearly.The places where people hid their sins.Van rubbed his fingers over the cracked screen of Bianca’s phone.The evidence was still fresh in his mind — too fresh. The videos, the photos, the recordings.He hadn’t even begun to process it all.But he couldn’t stop now.He couldn’t let them win.The taxi rolled to a stop at the airport’s long-term parking lot.Van didn’t get out.Instead, he stared through the windshield at the flickering terminal lights, his thoughts spiraling.Was this it?Was he about to leave everything behind?Ivy, the kids, his life as he knew it?He couldn’t.He wouldn’t.But he also couldn’t stay.He needed allies.Van stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver in cash before walking throug
214. Secrets
Van didn’t go straight home. He knew better. If they were watching him — and after tonight, he was sure of it — bringing danger to Ivy and the kids would be unforgivable. Instead, he drove to a cheap motel on the edge of town, the kind of place nobody asked questions and the cameras were either broken or faked. The neon VACANCY sign buzzed weakly against the rain-soaked sky as Van pulled into the lot. Room 12 smelled like mold and old cigarettes, but it had a lock on the door and curtains thick enough to block the world out. For now, that was enough. He locked the door, jammed a chair under the knob, and dumped the soaked backpack on the stained mattress. He pulled out Bianca’s phone with trembling hands. Still wet. Still cracked. Still hers. Van sat down heavily and got to work. First step: dry the phone. He stripped it carefully, removing the battered SIM card and the microSD tucked into the side. Both small enough to fit in his wallet. He left the phone shell near
213. Hidden Tunnels
The marina was deserted. The storm had driven everyone indoors, and the usual hum of yacht engines and tourist chatter was replaced by the howl of the wind against steel masts. Boats bobbed violently in the dark water, their ropes creaking like dying animals. Van parked three blocks away and approached on foot, keeping to the shadows. The piece of paper with the coordinates was damp in his pocket, but he had already memorized them. The entrance to the old service tunnels wasn’t easy to find. Most people didn’t even know they existed — relics from when the marina had been part of a naval shipyard decades ago. Now, the city had simply built over them, sealing the past under concrete and forgetting. But Van remembered. His father had worked the shipyards once, before everything went wrong. He found the access point tucked behind a rusted utility shed — a heavy steel hatch, half-hidden by tangled vines. He tugged at the handle. Locked. Van gritted his teeth, pulled a crowbar
212. Meeting In The Rain
The storm didn’t let up.It pounded the city in thick, angry sheets, flooding gutters, choking the storm drains, turning alleyways into rivers of filth.Van watched it from the living room window, one hand curled around a cold cup of coffee.He hadn’t slept.He couldn’t.Not with the bloody scrap locked away in his desk drawer.Not with Ivy pretending everything was fine for the kids’ sake.At 2:37 a.m., his phone buzzed again.Unknown Number.Van snatched it up.A text this time.MEET ME.PARKER’S GARAGE. 4AM. COME ALONE.No signature.No instructions.But Van already knew he was going.★★★Parker’s Garage was an old, abandoned auto shop on the east side, gutted years ago after a fire.Van remembered it from his teenage years — a place where kids would go to drink, fight, and hide from the world.He drove through the drowned streets, headlights cutting through the rain like a blade.The city felt deserted, haunted.Every instinct told him this was a trap.He went anyway.He pulled up
