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From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 188. Waiting Room
The ticking of the wall clock was louder than it had any right to be.Ivy sat in the too-bright waiting room, wrapped in a thin hospital blanket, her hospital gown feeling too light against the cold plastic chair. The nurses had tried to convince her to wait in her ward but Ivy just couldn't. She needed to be closer to him, if it was possible for her to be in the operating room with him, she wouldn't hesitate. Her fingers kept pressing lightly to her belly, over and over again, as if reminding herself that the baby was still there. That life was still there.But Van…She exhaled shakily, fingers curling against the blanket in her lap. Every second felt like an hour. Somewhere down the corridor, behind a set of sterile double doors, the man who had thrown his own life aside to save hers was lying unconscious, his fate in the hands of strangers.Her mind wouldn’t stop replaying the last few hours. The moment they were pulled from the wreckage, the blood on Van’s back. How pale he had l
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 189. The Calm Before The Storm
Slowly, the world returned in pieces.A dull ache pulsed through Van’s shoulder first, then the sting of dryness in his throat. The sound of beeping. Soft voices from around him. The antiseptic smell of a hospital room.His eyelids were heavy, but the moment he forced them open, the first thing he saw was her.Ivy.She sat at the edge of his bed, eyes red from crying too much, her fingers laced tightly with his. Her head was bowed, her other hand gently resting on her stomach. Her body was still, but tension radiated off her like heat.“Ivy…” His voice came out rough and hoarse.At the sound of his voice, her head immediately shot up, eyes wide as she stared at him. “Van?”He gave a slight nod, wincing at the way his muscles screamed in protest.“You’re awake,” she whispered, like she couldn’t believe it. Her fingers tightened around his. “You’re really awake.”He managed a small smile. “I told you… I’d be okay.”“Idiot,” she muttered, her eyes filling with fresh tears as she leaned i
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 190. Suspicions
Van sat propped up in his hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to the air. The dull beeping of machines and distant shuffle of footsteps in the corridor formed a steady background hum, but his attention was focused solely on Ivy, who sat curled up in the plastic chair beside him. The blanket she’d pulled from the foot of his bed was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, as if it could shield her from the weight of everything they'd just been through.They had been talking about baby names—well, trying to."You know, I just think we should wait until the first scan before we settle on anything," Van had said, adjusting the hospital gown that hung awkwardly on his shoulders. He winced slightly as he moved—his shoulder still ached from the impact.Ivy shook her head, her dark eyes set with quiet resolve. “No. I don’t want to know.”“What?”“I don't want to do a gender revealing scan. I want it to be a surprise.”Van chuckled lightly, then coughed. “You’re serious about
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 191. Danger Ahead
Van thought about just letting it go but he couldn't. “You weren't in the ambulance with us, why was that?”“Hmm?”“You heard me, Elias. Did you come here on your own? That would mean you weren't hurt, right? So why are you wearing a hospital gown?”Elias kept trying to insist that he had been at the hospital the whole time. But when neither of them bought his story, he hesitated, his eyes darting between them, before changing his tune. “You see, the thing is, I was at the police station before.” He said. “Police station? Are you okay?”“Y-yes. It's just that um… they wanted a statement of what happened back at the abandoned building, and uh, you and Ivy were obviously in no position to give any statement, so I volunteered to go with them.”If that was true, why hadn’t he just said it from the start?Now Van was convinced something was up. “Okay,” he said simply, his tone flat but eyes sharp. He sat up straight, watching Elias closely.Elias opened his mouth like he wanted to say mor
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 192. Van Everest, A Kidnapper!
Van stared blankly at her face as she spoke. The hum of the cafe around them faded into a dull murmur as Rita's words echoed in his head. She knew. He didn’t know how, but she knew something that made his skin crawl. Something that made his chest tighten with dread.He knew his life was in danger—that much was already obvious. But prison? What did she mean he might end up in prison? What for?He waited for her to continue, to spell out whatever twisted connection she was hinting at, but she didn’t. She just sat there, unmoving, her coffee untouched, her eyes locked on him like she was trying to peer through his skull and read every thought behind his silent facade.Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but strained.“What are you talking about?”“She’s missing,” Rita said. Just like that. No build-up. No cushion. Just a cold, cutting declaration.“Who?”“Bianca. She’s been missing for almost a week now.”Van blinked. “What?”“No one’s heard from her,” she continued, her voice measured but
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 193. Frustrations
Ivy came downstairs quietly, her bare feet soft against the wood, each step deliberate, careful—as if the house itself might shatter if she moved too quickly. She found him on the couch, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed low like the weight of the world had finally claimed him. The only light in the room came from the half-drawn blinds, casting long, gray shadows across the walls. The television was off. No sound but the soft tick of the clock above the mantle and the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she walked over and sat down beside him, close enough that their legs brushed. Even though his eyes were shut, he could feel her presence in the subtle shift of the air, in the warmth that radiated from her skin. It was comfort without pressure, a presence that said, I’m here, without demanding anything in return.“I know you’re hurting,” she said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “But I need to know how you
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 194. Bianca.
FLASHBACK. Bianca stepped out of the cab and into the cool, dusky air of the quiet parking lot behind Eliza’s, the tucked-away Mediterranean restaurant she and Van had chosen for their lunch date. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, eyes scanning for him. Her heels clicked against the concrete, each step measured, her breath visible in the chilled air. But it wasn’t Van standing near the back entrance, under the pale orange glow of a flickering street lamp. Her steps faltered. What on earth was going on? she asked herself, suddenly overwhelmed with disbelief and maybe... dread? He was leaning against his sleek black car, arms folded across his chest, dressed in a dark charcoal jacket and jeans. He looked relaxed. Too relaxed. But there was a sharpness in his gaze as it settled on her. “W- what are you doing here?” Bianca asked, forcing her voice to stay calm. She took a few cautious steps forward but stopped when she saw the way his jaw tightened. He didn’t answ
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 195. The Ultimatum
FLASHBACK.Greg pushed open the door to Moses’s office with more urgency than usual, his breath shallow, eyes wide with a mix of anxiety and pride. Moses looked up from his desk, brows furrowed over his reading glasses. The golden glow of the setting sun filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the expensive mahogany furniture and dark leather chairs.“I found something,” Greg said quickly, stepping in without waiting for an invitation.Moses leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “This better be good.”Greg pulled out his phone, thumbed through his Facebook account, and handed it over. “Watch this. And look at the comments.”Moses took the phone and pressed play. The video began with a girl— a girl he knew too well. She sat on her bed, speaking directly to the camera. Her words were a blend of guilt and regret, a passionate apology aimed at someone she had wronged. Someone dear to her heart. Moses watched silently, his jaw tightening as the video played. Then came th
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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
