Just Chris Winchester

"Mr. Winchester, you are under arrest for possession and distribution of illegal narcotics."

Chris froze at the doorway of his apartment, his worn briefcase slipping from his fingers. Three police officers stood in his living room, their expressions stern and unyielding. Behind them, his mother in law, Margaret, sat on the couch with a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. His father in law, Richard, stood by the window, arms crossed, looking like he had just won the lottery.

"There must be a misunderstanding," Chris said, his voice shaking. "I don't do drugs. I've never touched drugs in my life."

"Save your lies for the judge," one officer said, holding up a clear plastic bag filled with white powder. "We found these in your bedroom closet."

Chris's mind raced. His bedroom closet? He had been at work all day, managing inventory at the warehouse for twelve hours straight. How could drugs appear in his home?

"You cheap lying motherfucker," a voice spat from behind him.

Chris turned to see Johnson, Vera's older brother, leaning against the doorframe with a cruel grin stretched across his face.

"I always knew you were trash, but a drug dealer? That's a new low, even for someone like you."

"I didn't do this," Chris protested, looking from face to face, searching for even a hint of belief. "Someone planted those drugs. I would never—"

"Mom, what's going on here?"

Chris's heart clenched as Vera walked through the door, still in her business suit from the law firm where she worked as a junior associate. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene: the police officers, her family, and Chris standing in the middle like a convicted criminal.

"Your wannabe husband here is doing drugs," Margaret announced with theatrical disgust. "I warned you about this loser, didn't I? But you refused to listen."

"Drugs?" Vera's voice was barely a whisper. "No. Chris would never do something like that."

For three years, they had been married. Three years that started as a business arrangement but had slowly transformed into something neither of them expected. Vera's grandfather had one condition for her inheritance: she had to be married. Her family had chosen Chris because he was nobody, a warehouse worker with no connections, no power, and no threat to their control over Vera. They thought he would be easy to manipulate and easy to discard.

But Vera had discovered something her family never anticipated. Chris was kind. He cooked her favorite meals when she came home exhausted from work. He cleaned their small apartment without complaint. When she fell sick last winter with the flu, he stayed up all night making sure she had medicine and warm soup. He remembered her coffee order, asked about her day, and listened when she needed to talk.

He was more than the nothing her family claimed he was.

"The evidence is clear, ma'am," the officer said to Vera. "We need to take him in for questioning."

"I'll go with you," Vera said immediately, stepping forward.

Margaret shot to her feet, her face turning red with fury.

"Step out of that door with him, and you cease to be our daughter. I will make sure I cut off all your inheritance and remove you from the family business. Every share, every dollar, gone."

Vera's hand trembled, caught between her husband and her family. Chris saw the conflict in her eyes, the fear and confusion warring with loyalty.

"It's alright, Vera," Chris said softly, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. This is just a misunderstanding. It will get sorted out."

He followed the officers willingly, his head held high despite the humiliation burning through his chest. Richard's cold laughter followed him down the hallway. Johnson muttered something about trash taking itself out. Margaret declared that this was the best thing that could have happened.

As the officers led him to the patrol car, the reality of his situation crashed over him like a wave. His in laws had finally found a way to destroy him. For three years, they had tried everything to convince Vera to divorce him. They insulted him at family dinners, excluded him from important events, reminded him daily that he wasn't good enough for their daughter. But Vera, stubborn and independent despite her family's control, had refused to leave him.

So they had taken matters into their own hands.

The handcuffs clicked around his wrists as he sat in the back of the patrol car. Through the window, he could see Vera standing in the apartment doorway, her face pale and torn. His chest ached at the sight of her distress.

Just as the car door slammed shut, his phone chimed in his pocket. One of the officers retrieved it, checking the screen before handing it to him with a confused frown.

Chris glanced down at the notification.

CREDIT ALERT

Account: Winchester, C.

Transaction Type: Credit

Amount: $30,000,000,000.00

New Balance: $30,000,003,247.89

Description: Transfer from Winchester Holdings

Date: Today, 7:43 PM

Your account has been credited. Thank you for banking with us.

His father had finally made his move.

*****************

"Mr. Winchester, you're free to go."

Chris looked up from the cold metal bench in the holding cell, surprised. Only four hours had passed since his arrest, barely enough time for processing, let alone a release. The officer unlocked the cell door and gestured for him to follow.

"Someone posted your bail and your lawyer got the charges dropped pending investigation," the officer explained as they walked through the station. "Lucky man."

Lucky wasn't the word Chris would have used. His father's interference was never about luck. It was about control.

At the station entrance, Chris stepped into the cool evening air and stopped short. Parked directly in front of the building sat a Rolls Royce Phantom, midnight black with chrome accents that gleamed under the streetlights. The car probably cost more than most people earned in a lifetime.

A man in an immaculate black suit stood beside the rear door. He was tall, probably in his early fifties, with gray streaks in his dark hair and the bearing of someone who commanded respect without demanding it. When he saw Chris, he bowed slightly.

"Good evening, young master. I am William Chuks, and I work for your father."

Chris felt his jaw tighten. "Oh great. What does he want this time?"

William's expression remained professional, but something flickered in his eyes. Understanding, perhaps. "Master David requests your presence at the penthouse. He wishes to speak with you."

"I'm sure he does." Chris started walking past the car. "Tell him I'm not interested."

"Young master, please." William moved quickly, positioning himself in Chris's path without being aggressive. "Your father sent you some funds for your upkeep. Thirty billion dollars. He's concerned about your living situation."

Chris laughed bitterly. "I'm fine. I don't need his help or his money."