The Death and Resurrection Of Martin Luther

A Touch Too Familiar

After he was thrown out, Martin sat on the steps outside the grand glass doors, his walking stick leaning beside him. Passersby slowed down, then reached into their pockets, dropping dollar bills into his lap. They thought he was begging.

“God bless you,” muttered a woman in heels without even looking at him.

Martin looked down at the bills, his jaw tightening. He wasn’t a beggar. At least… he didn’t think he was.

But he doesn't even know who he was. Then the sound of screeching tires pulled him back.

A black luxury sedan stopped at the curb. Something about it drew him, and before he knew it, he was on his feet, staggering forward until he stood right in front of the vehicle.

“Hey! Move, you idiot!” the driver shouted, throwing the door open. Are you trying to get yourself killed?

Martin didn’t move. He stood frozen, staring at the vehicle. Something about it feels… familiar. Too familiar.

“Are you deaf? Get out of the way before I call security!” The driver stormed toward him.

Martin didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the car, something was finding it's way back from the depths of his fractured memory.

Then the rear door opened, and a tall man stepped out, adjusting his suit jacket, his presence commanding immediate respect.

Martin’s throat tightened and his lips trembled as he saw the man. “I… I know you.”

The driver blinked, then chuckled nervously. “Sir, don’t bother with this one. He’s just another homeless beggar. Probably high. I’ll move him.”

But Cole lifted a hand, silencing him. His cold blue eyes fixed on Martin, scanning him from head to toe.

“You know me? Everyone knows me,” Cole said smoothly. “Cole Luther. CEO of Luther Enterprises. Owner of this building and a few dozen more across the country. Of course you know me.”

Martin’s lips trembled. “No… not that. I know you. You feel…” He struggled, grasping at fragments that wouldn’t come together. “Familiar.”

Cole chuckled, a sharp sound. “I hear this nonsense every day. Desperate people trying to get close. You want money? Go through the right process. I don’t hand out favors on the street.”

“I don’t want your money!” Martin snapped, voice cracking with desperation. “It’s you… I know you from somewhere.”

Cole turned away, waving him off. “Pathetic.”

He moved to step back into the car.

“Wait!” Martin lurched forward and grabbed his wrist.

Cole froze. His eyes flicked down at the rough hand gripping him, then back at Martin’s face.

And for a split second, his chest tightened. The grip… it was too familiar.

Martin’s eyes bore into his. “Who are you to me?”

Cole yanked his arm free, shoving Martin violently. Martin stumbled back, crashing to the ground. His cane clattered against the pavement.

“Security!” Cole barked.

The guards rushed forward, shocked to see the same man they had thrown out earlier now blocking the CEO.

“What is wrong with you people?” Cole snapped. “He could have had a knife! Are you playing with your jobs?”

The guards seized Martin, yanking him to his feet. Phones were already out, people nearby were recording.

Taylor burst through the crowd, eyes wide. She darted to Martin’s side, crouching beside him. “He’s not dangerous. His name is Ryan. He’s my friend. He’s recovering from an illness. Please, forgive him.”

Cole’s attention shifted. And for the first time, his harsh expression faltered. The young woman in front of him was beautiful.

“And who are you?” Cole asked, voice low.

“I came for an interview,” Taylor said quickly, keeping her arm around Martin.

Cole’s gaze swept over her. Elegant despite her simple clothe. A smile touched his lips. “An interview with Luther Enterprises?”

“Yes.”

“And this...” his eyes flicked at Martin...“is your friend?”

“Yes,” she pressed. “He’s harmless. Please don’t take him seriously, he doesn’t always remember things clearly. We’ll leave now.”

Cole chuckled softly. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and drew a card and a thick bundle of cash. He held it out to her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Next time, make sure he’s cleaned up. Clothes, hair, the smell...” his gaze lingered, intentionally bold ...“I don’t want him standing next to you looking like a stray dog. You deserve better beside you.”

Taylor stiffened, heat rushing to her cheeks. She took the bundle with shaky hands. “T-thank you.”

Cole’s smile deepened. “Come back next week. I’ll see if I can arrange something better than a low-level interview. Maybe something… more fitting for you.” His gaze dipped briefly, deliberately, before he added, “And perhaps a cleaning job for him. If you’re willing to bring him along.”

Taylor’s heart pounded. She forced a polite smile. “We’ll be there.”

“Good girl,” Cole said, his voice smooth, his eyes burning into hers a second too long. Then he turned and walked back toward his car, the driver following behind.

Cole slid back into his black sedan, but as the driver shut the door, his fingers lingered on the wrist the mad man had grabbed.

That grip… it was the same way Martin, his dead brother, used to hold him. For a second, unease clouded his face.

He shook his head. That was impossible, Martin was dead, buried and forgotten for two years.

And yet… Cole felt his brother’s ghost walking right beside him.