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From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 121. The Meeting
"Good morning everyone," Ivy had been planning on how she was going to tell them that she was leaving, but even after taking the whole night to come up with a way, she still had nothing. So she just decided to say whatever came to her mind. "Good morning dear, did you sleep well?" As usual, Sarah was the only one who spoke to her. It was like they appointed her to be the spokesperson for the family when they were talking to her. No matter what she said or did, her so called father acted like she was a total stranger. He only interacted with her once in a while and it was casual things. Like good morning or goodnight. And sometimes just a nod to answer her questions. She was sure Rosie hated her, she never spoke to her or even looked at her. It was like she didn't exist to her. Then Laura was distant, but s canhe still talked to her sometimes. Then, ever since Ivy promised to leave, she had been a bit more friendly with her. It was only their mother, Sarah, who had ensued the role
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 122. Reconciliation
Ivy thought Sarah would break down in tears or at least look heartbroken by her statement, but none of that happened. Instead she frowned even deeper and slapped her hard on the cheek. She eyed Ivy with an intense hate-filled glare, then she took the glass from the stand and walked out of her room. Ivy sat on the bed, cradling her cheek that had turned red from the impact. Never had her mother or grandmother hit her before, no matter what she said or did, she would always just scold her, then they'd make up later. If you had just been reunited with your long lost daughter, would you lay your hand on her just days after she returns? Definitely not. She had gotten her answer. Ivy spent the rest of the day up in her room, she didn't even go down to eat with them. Once it was evening, she carried her already packed bag and headed downstairs. Sarah seemed to be having a heated conversation with her husband but Ivy acted like she didn't see either of them.When she got to the front do
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 123. Payback Time
"Your friend is missing, what are you going to do about that?"Sandra knew that Ivy had left the Millers, Chris called her in the middle of the night and was whining about it. "So? Weren't you supposed to keep an eye on her? What does her disappeance have to do with me?""Don't you think Mr Chris might think it's your fault?""Oh? And why would he think that? Unless a certain bitch told him that I kept instigating her to leave the house." Chris had also told her that Sarah was constantly reporting her, he said she kept demanding that he punish her. Little did she know that Chris didn't believe a word she said. Since Sandra was the one who recommended them, Chris was telling her out of concern that they might plan on betraying her. "Did you just call your mother a bitch? How dare you!""Oh please Sarah, am I wrong? Isn't that what you are? A psychotic bitch who would do anything for money. And what, my mother? You stopped being my mother— and a good mother, even- ever since that day.
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 124. Set Up
Ivy felt her blood boil, after everything she had done to them, how and why would Van give her his number again?"Hey babe, when can I see you? We need to talk." She read the message out loud. "From Cynthia.""What?""Van, what the hell? After everything, your still in contact with her? Why on earth would you give her your phone number?""I swear I didn't. I have no idea how she got it.""How am I supposed to believe you? Van, so much has happened between you two.""Ivy, please. I swear to you.""How are you going to prove that you're telling the truth?""You can block her, go ahead. Check my phone, you won't find any text or call history between us."Ivy didn't want to doubt Van but her heart wasn't sure anymore. The only thing that was certain to her was the fact that she loved him, and love wasn't enough. Trust was also needed. She trusted Van, but it had its limits. "If you don't believe me, why don't we get a confession out of her ourselves?""What? How?""She wants to meet up
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 125. Promise Of Love
Seeing Van again after a while made her heart flutter, he was really handsome. That was probably the reason she refused to lose him. Men like him were almost never easy to find. She stalled for a few minutes, waiting for her companions to show up. Her plan was simple, meet Van in a private place. Wait until the men she hired were around. Then accuse him of rape. Surely Van would never want to go to jail, and that way, they would be able to work out some kind of compromise. When she heard the knock on the door, it signalled that they had arrived, and it was time for her to do her part. She had intentionally worn light clothes that would be easy to rip apart. "Help! Anyone please!" She cried out. Van stared at her with obvious shock on his face and Cynthia couldn't help but to smile. There was no way he was getting out of this one. Her companions finally broke the lock on the door, forcing it open. "What the hell is going on here?!" Ralph, her friend and former driver demanded.
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 126. She's Back
"Good morning Sandra."Sandra looked up from her phone and stared at the person in front of her. "I thought you already crawled under a rock to die or something.""I'm not going to let your mean words get to me. That's not why I'm here, I have a proposal for you." Cynthia sat on the chair opposite Sandra. "Did I ask you to seat?" An annoyed frown formed on her face. "You know Cynthia, you can really be dimwitted sometimes. I'm sure I made myself pretty clear the last time we saw, I want nothing to do with you. Is that too hard to understand?""Yes Sandra, it is. Even if you say you never loved me, it doesn't change the fact that you and I had something, something special.""To you, or to me?""Sandra, I know you're intentionally being mean to me because of Chris -"Sandra scoffed. "Because of Chris? Please, why the hell would I have to change who I am for that scum bag? What, are you afraid of him? Well it's not surprising, you are a big loser so it's only natural for the average per
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 127. Fiendish Friend
Either it was out of love or boredom, it was true that Sandra dated Cynthia for a while. So if not completely, she could say that she understood her behavior at least fifty percent. It was obvious that she was still holding grudges against her for replacing her. And it must have gotten worse when Sandra told her she never cared for her and claimed that their relationship was just to pass time. She must have been looking for ways she could make Sandra pay for treating her badly. And she finally came up with one. She would call her and tell her that she could send Chris to prison, and she knew Sandra would definitely agree to it because it was no secret that she disliked him. Then she would tell Chris that Sandra was plotting to sabotage him, and he would chase her away, giving Cynthia the chance to get her job back. But the pieces of the puzzle didn't seem complete. Cynthia was actually planning on using Chris's cousin to send him to prison, that part was certain to Sandra. Th
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. Author's Note
Hi." "Hi, do I know you? You look kinda familiar." "Me? Oh I don't think so. I've lived here all my life." "Oh… then you're not the one. My bad." "Not at all. You're the wife of the man who lives down at the beach house, right?" Ivy was surprised because she didn't know who the other lady was, or how she knew who she was. "Um … yeah?" "There's no need to look so concerned. I live around and I love going to the beach a lot. I've seen you and your… husband?..." Ivy nodded and she smiled. "Okay. I've seen you two around a couple of times." "Oh okay. Nice to meet you." "Same here. The reason I approached you today was because I wanted to be friends. I've been thinking about the right way to go about it but nothing seemed right so…" "It's totally fine. We can be friends. It would be nice to have at least one friend before I leave." "Leave?" "Yeah. My husband and I are just here for our honeymoon." "Ah, then I guess I should have approached you much more earlier." "Hehe. It's fi
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229. Regrouping
The sedan rolled to a stop at the docks, wheels crunching over loose gravel.The old warehouse loomed ahead — rusted, half-abandoned, but still standing.Safehouse Two.For now.Van was the first out, scanning the shadows.Nothing moved but the water lapping against the pilings.It was good... for now.Boyd staggered out next, coughing from the smoke that still clung to his lungs.He looked back at the road, half expecting black SUVs to come roaring around the bend.None yet.But he knew it was only a matter of time. They all did. Inside the warehouse, Carla flicked the light switch. Nothing. It was obvious that power was long dead here.She cursed and grabbed the old lantern from the shelf, sparking weak yellow light into the gloom. "Great. We’re living like rats now," she muttered.Dan slumped against a wall, wincing as he peeled back the bloody cloth from his arm. The wound was deeper than he let on but no one had time to properly check on him yet. Louisa stood frozen in the midd
228. Counterstrike
The first sign came quiet. Too quiet.Carla’s laptop froze mid-search.The screen flickered once, then died.She cursed under her breath, smacking the side."That’s not normal," she muttered.But by the time she turned to call Van, the lights in the safehouse cut out too.Dark.Total dark.Van's instincts snapped awake.He grabbed Boyd by the collar, yanked him back from the window."Down. Now."A second later, the glass exploded inward — a single sniper round carving through where Boyd’s head had been.Dan was already rolling for the back door, weapon drawn.But he barely made it two steps before the walls shuddered — an explosion outside, close enough to rattle the whole building."They're here!" Dan bellowed."Barron's men — they’re hitting us now!"Louisa screamed, clutching the flash drive like it was her last tether to life.Carla grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the back.Her voice was sharp but tight with fear."Move! Go! Go!"Van grabbed the rifle from under the couch — o
227. The Leak
By dawn, the first leak was already live.A small, half-forgotten blog out of Riverside — City Watchdog — dropped the bomb.No flashy headlines. No screaming sirens.Just cold facts: financial records, timestamps, and the name of a sitting state senator wired half a million from one of Barron’s shell companies.No context. No accusation, just enough to light the fuse.Van watched the post go viral in real time.At first, nobody cared. Then, somewhere around seven AM, a bigger account picked it up — a political gossip page with just enough clout to make people squint.By noon, national blogs were calling it "The Slush Fund Scandal."At around two PM, the senator’s office released a frantic denial.That’s when Van knew they’d drawn blood.Boyd let out a bark of laughter when the news hit the TV in the safehouse."Look at them squirm! Man, they thought they were gods. Now they’re crying on camera like school kids who were caught cheating."Dan just grunted, never looking away from the wi
226. The Accountant's Secret
The safehouse smelled like old coffee and fear when Louisa Martin finally showed up.She came alone, wrapped in a cheap raincoat two sizes too big, hair hidden under a beanie.Her eyes darted everywhere — ceiling corners, dark windows, even the cracks in the floor like they might bite her.Van watched her quietly from across the room, arms folded.She looked nothing like the sharp financial shark Keller described.This woman was frayed at the edges, like someone who hadn’t slept properly in months.Keller made the introductions. "Louisa. This is Van. Van — Louisa."Louisa’s voice was brittle as glass. "I know who he is."Her eyes flicked to Van, then away again like looking at him too long might get her killed.Van didn’t bother with small talk, time was blood now. "You worked for Barron, that means you know where the bodies are buried. You talk — I make sure you stay breathing.You stay quiet — and you’ll be next on his list."Louisa’s laugh was short and humorless."Sweetheart, I’ve
225. Next Move
By mid-morning, Van couldn’t step outside without seeing his own face staring back from every screen.Some called him a vigilante.Others spat the word criminal like poison.But the city was buzzing, and Barron’s name was finally dragged through the dirt alongside his own.Van didn’t care about the headlines. He cared about the numbers Carla showed him — accounts traced, shell companies linked, wires exposed like raw nerves.Money. That’s where they would cut next.She tapped the screen, her nail chipped and trembling slightly."See this? Phoenix Holdings. Looks clean on the outside, but dig deeper and it’s washing Barron’s trafficking money through luxury imports. Art, watches, cars—hell, probably gold toilets for his mansion."Van grunted. His mind wasn’t on art.It was on Lenny, still fighting for his life three floors up."You said we could burn him financially. How?"Carla smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked as tired as he felt."We leak it. Quiet first — to the rig
224. First Blood
The attack came at dawn.Silent. Surgical. Cruel.Lenny never saw it coming. He was stepping out of his apartment, headed to meet Van at the old mill, when the van screeched up.Three men in black masks.No words — just steel pipes and fists.Neighbors heard the commotion but kept their doors shut.Everyone knew better. When Barron’s men came calling, you looked away.By the time the van peeled off, Lenny lay in a broken heap, blood pooling beneath his head.His niece’s picture, which he always carried in his pocket, fluttered to the ground, soaked red.★★★Van got the call an hour later.Nora's voice shook."They nearly killed him, Van. Lenny’s in ICU. Skull fractures, broken ribs. They meant to send a message."Van stood frozen in the middle of Keller’s living room, heart pounding like a war drum.Carla looked up from her laptop, face pale."This is escalation. Barron’s going full scorched earth now. If we don’t hit back hard—"Van was already moving.★★★At the hospital, Lenny lay
223. Raising An Army
Van’s phone buzzed just past midnight, it was an unknown number but he answered without hesitation.A familiar voice, rough and low, crackled through."You said if we ever wanted payback, we should call. Well, we’re calling."It was Lenny — an old cellmate from the prison days. A man who’d lost his niece to the same trafficking chain Bianca had just escaped.Van’s chest tightened."Where are you?""Abandoned mill off 43rd Street. And we’re not alone."Van grabbed his jacket and keys.This was the sign he’d been waiting for.★★★The mill was a ruin of rust and cracked windows, but inside, the air was electric.Dozens of faces turned when Van stepped in.Ex-cons, street runners and women with haunted eyes — survivors of Barron’s network.At the front stood Lenny, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, a thin woman with a scar along her jaw — Nora, who had once testified and then vanished from public sight.Van took it in: a gathering of the discarded and the damned.People
222. Barron Retaliates
The news broke before dawn. Grainy footage leaked online — flashing lights at the docks, bodies being loaded into ambulances, women wrapped in blankets, their faces blurred.The headlines screamed in bold:Human Trafficking Ring Busted in Dramatic Night Raid.But behind the headlines, in dark rooms far from the public eye, powerful men were already plotting their revenge.Van sat beside Bianca's hospital bed, watching her chest rise and fall. She was sedated, her body too battered and exhausted to stay conscious for long but she was alive.That simple fact kept him breathing.Keller stood near the door, on the phone with someone high up — probably trying to keep this operation from exploding into a political scandal.Carla scrolled through her tablet, her face grim."They’re already spinning this," she muttered. "Barron’s people are leaking stories that this was a rogue smuggling crew. Small-time. Not connected to him."Van’s jaw clenched."Typical. Burn the pawns, protect the king."
221. Final Hunt
The storm hadn’t let up by morning.Thunder rolled over the city like distant gunfire as Van paced the length of Keller’s safehouse, phone clutched in a death grip.The message replayed in his mind over and over:"Transfer complete. Barron expects the shipment before Friday."Today was Thursday.That meant they had less than twenty-four hours to find Bianca before she vanished — maybe forever.Carla spread a map on the table, jabbing her finger at different points marked in red."These are known drop sites tied to Barron’s network. Truck yards. Private airstrips. Warehouses near the docks. If they’re moving her, it’s through one of these routes."Van stopped pacing, leaned over the map."Which one?"Carla’s mouth pressed into a thin line."If I knew that, we’d already be on the road."Keller stormed in from the other room, phone to his ear."No, I don’t care if it’s off the books—pull every asset we have! She’s out there, and I want eyes on every exit point in this city!"He ended the
