2024-10-09 21:37:19
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From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 26. Van, A Mystery
Before Ivy got pregnant, her grandmother had arranged for her to get married. "But grandma, I can't possibly get married now, I'm only nineteen! There are so many things I would rather be doing with my life than planning a wedding.""Ivy, listen to me. As a businesswoman, I understand the idea of wanting to improve in what you do. I understand the way you feel, you want to make a name for yourself in the business world, you want to become the best at this. And I think I know why.""Look grandma, I really don't –""This is because of your grandfather, am I right? You feel bad about what happened to him so you want to live up to his legacy and probably even surpass it. You want to prove to your father that you are more than just the child of a mistress. Isn't it?Well sweetie, I understand that. But the longer you stay single, the more people begin to speculate that maybe you're just like your mother.""And what is so wrong with being like my mother?!" Ivy was always on the defensive w
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 27. The Promise
Ivy didn't know what to say, she just stood there, frozen in shock. Did he actually make the transfer? It couldn't be a fake alert right? There was no way Van would try to dupe someone like that…even if Pharrell was a huge asshole. But where on earth would he get such a huge amount of money?Pharrell and Jessica couldn't hide their surprises either. Their eyes were glued to the phone, reading the alert message over and over again. "I…impossible! This must be some kind of trick." Pharrell said, facing Van. "There is no way that a sorry looking person like you could ever afford such anount of money. This must be a fake alert!""Yes… that's true." Jessica agreed. "Even before he went to prison, Van was a nobody. And for the past five years, he has been in prison. So tell me, where does a prisoner get this much money?""A fake alert huh? Very well then. Shall we confirm? But keep in mind, once it's clear that it's real, you'll have to apologize to me and my wife for insulting us in publ
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 28. New Van
As Van walked through the little gates of his mother house, he noticed her standing by the door, a worried expression on her face. "Oh goodness me, you had been gone for so long that I was starting to worry." She said as he let himself into the little house. "Sorry about that mom, it has been a very long day. And in the end, I couldn't even get any shopping done. But it's alright, because I got something even better." He announced with a smile. "Oh? And that might that be?""Mom, we're moving out of this place.""What?"On his way back home, Van had placed a call to his chauffeur and asked him to contact an agent that could provide a new, comfortable place where he could raise a family. He was going to have to get permission from Ivy for that, but he just decided to get the place first. "I know it's shocking, but I want you to know that your son isn't doing anything illegal." That alone would not suffice as an explanation for his mother, and he knew that. "I met someone, a woman.
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 29. Elaine
Elaine decided to go shopping to clear her mind. She hadn't been able to get Van out of her mind. To think that he would boldly turn down the offer to marry a woman like her, and in front of people too! The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. What did Ivy have that she didn't? Was it beauty? She was very beautiful, and she wasn't just praising herself. Different companies had approached her with various offers for her to become the face of their products. She had even reached the top five of most beautiful woman every year for three years in a row. Was it intellect?She graduated at the top of her class in highschool and college. Her father was always commending her on how she was doing a good job managing his business. She had even come up with some ideas that fetched millions for her father's business. Or was it wealth? It was no secret that her family was filthy rich. And everything her parents owned also belonged to her. Plus, she could say that she helped in gett
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 30. Family
After getting their outfits and jeweleries, they were done. They got a taxi all the way back to Oakland and made their way to Ivy's residence. When they got there, Van suddenly started to feel nervous, like he was going for a job interview or auditioning for a movie role. He cleared his throat as he knocked on her door. A couple of seconds later, the door was opened and behind it, a little girl with a few missing teeth smiled at him. "Are you my daddy?" She asked, a confused expression on her face. "Yes. Yes I am." Van replied with a soft smile. "Mommy! Mommy!! It's daddy, daddy's here." She announced with an enthusiastic excitement, running from the front door over to Ivy and back. "Daddy?" A little boy stared at Van, and tears began streaming down his face. "Is daddy going to get a hug?" Van went down on his knees and opened his arms, hoping the kids didn't actually hate him for not being around all those years. Taking one cautious step after the other, both kids approached h
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 31. Heavenly Wears
"What?" Ivy had to take a minute to fully understand what Van said. "You…you want to take the kids with you?" She asked. She knew what he meant but she just wanted to be sure. "No, of course not. I want all of us to live together. You and the kids, me and my mom …as a family. I already asked someone to contact an agent and when there's an available place, we can go and check it together.""So …you want to live with me.""Yes. Don't take this the wrong way, this isn't me asking you out." He explained. "Oh." Ivy didn't know why but she felt disappointed when he said that. He seemed to notice too because he quickly added. "Not that I'm not going to ask you out– I mean, I'm not going to ask you out if you don't want —what I'm trying to say is this. I want us to bond as a family. I want to spend as much time as I can with the kids, and I also want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you better, I want to be your friend…and if our relationship blooms more than that, being your
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 32. A Plot
Van proposed they went to a nearby restaurant or cafe so they could talk more without interruptions, but during the taxi ride Ivy was as quiet as a mute. Even after they arrived at the cafe, she said nothing. Five minutes passed. Then ten, still she was silent. Her arms were folded underneath her chest and her gaze never left the window next to their table. Van had initially wanted to start up a conversation but he got distracted when he stared at her. Ivy was really beautiful, everything about her was elegant and classy. The way she carried herself, the way she talked and acted. Everything about her was perfect. She was putting on a loose fitted t-shirt and a pair of jeans but her curves were still visible. Her current sitting position caused her round boobs to pop up, and Van couldn't take his eyes off her. Watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed slowly was a sight that provoked him sexually. "You're very beautiful." He whispered softly and Ivy turned to fa
From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. 33. A Bride By Force
The distance between Van and Ivy kept growing, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do about it. He had asked her out on a date a few days ago, in an attempt to talk to her but she turned him down. That particular morning, they had had a fight because she said he was showing up around her kids too much. "Your kids? What happened to co parenting??" Van had demanded angrily and unfortunately for him, it didn't sit well with her. "So what? You show up five years after I've been through hell on my own and you feel like you have some kind of fatherly claim on them? Well no, you don't!I raised them on my own, and I can keep doing it without your help. Okay?!!""What has gotten into you Ivy? Why are you acting this way?""Like a crazy woman? Is that what you mean?""This isn't you.""It isn't? Why don't you tell me who I am then?" Ivy didn't know why but no matter how much she tried calming down, she would remember that Van was only using her and her anger would spike again. "I'm
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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
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
