2026-07-08 03:31:09Chris sat back down at the table and opened his browser.
He knew exactly where to start. St. Augustine's Preparatory Academy had a website that looked the way the school looked in person He had visited the page once before, months ago, after James had pressed his face against the fence that Saturday. He opened it now and went through it properly this time. The academic programmes. The extracurriculars. The boarding facilities, the library, and the science block that had apparently just been renovated. He clicked through to admissions. The f*e structure was listed clearly. Annual tuition: twenty-two thousand dollars. Boarding: nine thousand. Uniforms, materials, and activity levy: six thousand. Total for one full academic year, all inclusive: thirty-seven thousand dollars. Thirty-seven thousand dollars against fifty-one thousand in his account. He didn't hesitate. He filled the enrollment form and submitted it A payment portal loaded. The total sat at the top of the page. $37,000.00 He entered his account details and pressed confirm. The processing screen lasted four seconds. “Payment Successful. Enrollment Confirmed. Welcome to St Augustine's Preparatory Academy. Enrollment documentation will be sent to the provided email address within minutes.” The email arrived even before he closed the payment screen He opened it. A formal admission letter, St Augustine's crest at the top, and James's full name in clean type beneath it. “Dear James Hayes, We are pleased to confirm your enrollment at St Augustine's Preparatory Academy commencing the next academic term…” Chris downloaded it. He looked at it on his screen and the smile that came was different from last night's quiet, dangerous smile. As he sat there smiling, his stomach grumbled loudly, signifying his hunger. The last time he had had something was the afternoon of the previous day. He patted his jacket pocket. The sixty dollars he had remaining was still there in his pocket. He could use that for food without any worries. He could eat. Properly. Without calculating... He grabbed a fresh set of clothes from his backpack and headed for the small bathroom down the hall to take his shower Chris stood under the water longer than necessary. Not thinking about anything in particular. Just standing there, letting the warmth do whatever warmth does when a person has been running on adrenaline and shock and grief for the better part of twenty-four hours. He thought about his father. "The world will be unfair to you, Chris. Specifically and repeatedly and sometimes brilliantly unfair. The question is never whether it will happen. The question is what you're made of when it does." He remembered one of his father's pieces of advice he received when he complained of life being unfair to him after he was sacked from school for his father’s inability to pay his fees back in grade six He turned off the water. He was towelling his hair dry, pulling on his shirt, and running the conversation with James through his head on how much to say, how to say it, and how to show him the letter without making it feel like charity from a brother who was supposed to be as broke as he was. He stepped out of the bathroom. James was sitting on the bed. He was still in his St Matthias uniform. His backpack was at his feet, bigger than usual, clearly packed with everything he owned. He was sitting very straight, both hands in his lap, and his face was dropped. Their mother's stubbornness. Their father's dignity. All of it sitting in a fifteen-year-old's face on the edge of a bed in a one-room apartment. When he saw Chris, something in the blankness shifted. "Hey," Chris said. "Hey." James's voice was flat and careful. Chris crossed the room and sat beside him on the bed. For a moment neither of them said anything. The city moved outside the window. "They told everyone," James said finally. "Before I left this morning. Mr Coleman made an announcement at breakfast." He paused. "He said your scholarship was revoked because you were caught stealing." Chris said nothing. "The other students were asking me about it." James kept his eyes forward, at the wall opposite, not at Chris. "They were saying things." "I know," Chris replied calmly "Did you?" James turned then, and his eyes were direct and serious and fifteen years old and there was no ambiguity in the question. He was not asking to be comforted. He was asking because he needed to know. "Did you steal anything, Chris?" Chris met his brother's eyes. "No," he said. Simply. Without decoration or defence. "I have never stolen anything in my life. I was framed. Someone at Virell set me up very carefully and very deliberately, and they used the scholarship board to make it stick." He replied James held his gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Okay," he said. That was all. Okay. Complete and unconditional, the trust of someone who has had every reason to develop it over years. "So what do we do?" James asked. "We have both lost our scholarships." He looked around the room without finishing the sentence because the room finished it adequately on its own. Chris reached into his pocket. He took out his phone, opened his email, and pulled up the document he had downloaded an hour ago. He held the screen out to James without saying anything. James took the phone. He read the letterhead first. Chris watched his eyes track to the crest, to the name of the school, to his own name in the line beneath. He watched him read the first sentence, stop, and read it again. "This is ..." James looked up. "This is St Augustine's." "I know." "Chris, how did you …" He looked back at the screen, scrolling now, reading faster "This says fees paid. This says all fees paid. This says…" He stopped scrolling. He looked at his brother. "How?" Chris smiled. "I am going to explain everything," he said. "All of it. I promise. But right now I need you to know that you are going to St Augustine's, your fees are paid for the full year, and you are never going to have to worry about a scholarship board making decisions about your future again." He said James stared at him. Tears dropped from his eyes and a sob followed Not loudly. He sat on the edge of the bed with Chris's phone in both hands and the admission letter on the screen and cried Chris put his arm around his brother's shoulders. They sat like that for a while. Eventually James straightened. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his St Matthias blazer and he looked at the admission letter one more time. "St Augustine's", he said quietly. "St Augustines," Chris confirmed. James looked at him with eyes that were still wet but steady now "Dad would have gone crazy," James said. Chris laughed "Yeah," he said. "He really would have."
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165. The Information
It took Chris less than ten minutes to get to the restaurant. It was not a big one, but this was his first time here too.The restaurant was quiet at this hour.The lunch crowd had moved on, and the early dinner crowd had not arrived yet.That comfortable mid-afternoon silence when the staff were restocking and the place belonged to whoever needed a corner to sit in without being hurried out of it. Chris had chosen a table near the back wall, away from the window, with a clear line of sight to the entrance.He ordered a juice for formality and waited silently with his phone in hand.Fifteen minutes in, his phone rang.Bridget."I have been able to leave campus for now; I am on the bus," she said. Still quiet"I will be there soon. Ten minutes maybe.""Take your time," he said. "I am here. I will be waiting. For you"He put the phone down and looked at the door.She finally arrived twenty-two minutes after the call. Chris was still silently waiting for her, still pressing his phone.
164. The Call
Chris finished his meal and went to the kitchen to clean.Diane called while he was running hot water over the pan."Just checking if you have settled in alright," she said. "Any issues with heating, water pressure, or anything with the appliances?""Everything is working fine," Chris said. "The place is good. I like it," Chris replied"Glad to hear it." A brief pause. "Any questions about the building services?""Actually. Laundry," he said. "Is there a service for that?""There is. The number is on the list by your telephone. They collect from your room, wash, dry, and return. It is billed monthly as part of your utilities, not separately.""That is convenient," he said."It is one of the more popular services," she said. "Anything else?""Nothing for now. Thank you, Diane."He hung up and went back to the main room.He had left the PS5 paused mid-level, the character frozen in combat with an expression of plastic urgency. He unpaused it.Forty minutes later the phone rang agai
163. The First Day
He sat down, switched on the Playstation and set it up. Then he used the wifi to download about five games on the PlayStation. Right after that was done, he immediately began testing the games one after the other.Before he could realise exactly what was happening, it was already 2am. He finally switched off the gadgets and went to sleepHe slept well.The first night in the new apartment, the new mattress, and a quiet night.He woke at 8:30 am, which was later than the last two weeks had permitted.He lay still for a moment and registered where he was.His apartment. Third floor. The desk was visible through the bedroom doorway. The fridge was humming quietly in the kitchen. After about ten minutes of laying in the bed, trying to rest for a bit, he finally stood up and entered the kitchen.He made tea.He opened Binance.Bitcoin: $40,200. Still stable. The market's quiet period was continuing after the crash week's turbulence. He looked at it, decided it required no action, and clos
162. The Work
Chris stayed in the room planning on how to arrange the room with his eyes. Drawing a mind map of the room and how to arrange the things best.The app notification came through at 5:17“Your order has arrived. The driver is at your delivery address.”Chris was in the middle of organising the wardrobes and working out what went where.He put down the shirt he was holding and picked up his phone.He went downstairs.At the reception desk he paused."Do you have porters, please?" he asked.The receptionist shook her head. "We don't, unfortunately. Not a service we currently offer.""Alright," he said. "Thank you."He went outside.A white van was parked in the loading area to the side of the entrance. The driver was leaning against the door, checking his own phone. He looked up when Chris came out."Order for Hayes?""That is me," Chris said.The driver got down. A second man, the assistant, who had been in the passenger seat, came around from the other side. They went to the rear of t
161. A New Beginning
The hotel room was exactly as he had left it this morning. Two duffel bags against the wall, a hotel bag beside them. The desk was clear; the bed was made from the morning service.He called Diane while he stood in the middle of the room.She answered on the second ring."I am ready to move in now," he said."Perfect timing," Diane said. "Everything is set already. Go to the reception when you arrive; they will give you your keys. Once you are settled, the reception will arrange for someone to come up and activate your fingerprint on the scanner. It takes about five minutes." A brief pause. "Is there anything you need before you arrive?""Nothing," he said. "I will be there in a few minutes.""We will be ready; my people will be waiting for you," she said.He ended the call.He stood in the hotel room one final time.He had been here sixteen days. This room had been safe when safe was what he needed.He picked up the first duffel bag.It was heavier than expected, which meant he had
160. Courtroom Success
The court's AV system was engaged. The USB drive was inserted into the court's secure terminal. The courtroom's screen at the side of the bench came to life.The footage ran.Three minutes and fifty-eight seconds of overhead and door-level camera footage. Five individuals in dark clothing and equipment consistent with law enforcement entered an apartment, conducted a systematic search focused on the bed, communicated by radio, and exited.The courtroom watched in silence.When the footage ended, the judge looked at the defence table."Mr Vance," she said. "Your position is that the department had no officers at this address on this date.""That is correct, Your Honour.""And you are suggesting the footage may be fabricated.""Or may depict a different date, or individuals who are not…""The plaintiff's submission includes timestamps embedded in the file metadata," Jessica said. "Which are consistent with the date claimed and which show no evidence of post-capture alteration per the
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