2026-06-25 15:10:33The rain hadn't stopped by the time Sebastian reached his apartment building. The building was old and stained. The elevator had been broken for months. The landlord kept promising repairs, but nobody believed him anymore.
Sebastian was climbing the stairs slowly, his mind still busy recalling the memory of the woman offering one hundred thousand dollars for a debt file worth three dollars and then the warning that someone knew where he lived.
The words refused to leave his mind as reaching his floor he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The apartment was small with one bedroom, one couch and one table. That was all.
Three months ago, he had lived in a luxury apartment overlooking downtown, he drove a vehicle allowed by his company to him, people returned his calls. He chuckled realizing how quickly success disappeared.
The moment the accusations surfaced, everything collapsed instantly like someone flipping a switch. Sebastian dropped onto the couch, feeling all exhausted.
For the first time in a while, silence surrounded him. There were no usual investors mocking, laughing or whispering about him. Just pure silence. His eyes drifted toward a framed photograph sitting on a nearby shelf.
There were four people in the picture. Sebastian, Nathan Brooks, Marcus Hale and another colleague of his. Marcus was the founder of the Blackstone Asset Recovery group, the one who had treated Sebastian like his own family once.
Sebastian passed a faint smile recalling Marcus hadn't even called him once when Sebastian had given him five years of loyalty, solving impossible cases for him, five years of building the company's reputation and when the accusation arrived there was no question, no investigation, no support from his side, only silence.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Three loud bangs and Sebastian frowned because nobody really visited him anymore. Another knock followed harder this time and he stood and opened the door.
His landlord, Mr.Cooper was waiting outside, looking perpetually annoyed in his late fifties.
“You got my messages ?”
Sebastian already knew where this was going. “Rent.”
“Exactly.” The landlord folded his arms. “You're two weeks late.”
“I know.”
“And?”
Sebastian stayed silent because there was not much to say.
The landlord sighed dramatically. “You know, I tried helping you.”
His statement almost made Sebastian laugh inside his mind because threatening eviction every three days wasn't called helping anybody.
“I gave you extra time.”
“One week.”
“That's extra.” The landlord's eyes swept across the apartment and his expression changed. “Oh!”
Sebastian knew that look of recognition and disgust because everyone gave him that look now. It seemed like the landlord suddenly remembered who he was. A fraud investigator, the disgraced professional man from the news.
Mr.Cooper shook his head. “I didn't realize it was true.”
“What was true ?” Sebastian's jaws clenched.
“The fraud charges on you.”
“There were no charges.”
“Sure.” The landlord snorted.
Sebastian looked away because trying to explain never worked as people preferred headlines which required less thinking.
“I want my money by tomorrow.” Mr.Cooper's voice hardened.
“I need more time.”
“You've had time.”
“I'll pay.”
The landlord laughed hard as the sound echoed through the hallway. “With what ?”
The question landed harder than it should have because Sebastian didn't have an answer and Mr. Cooper saw it immediately that made his smile worse.
“If you had money, you wouldn't be living here.” He smirked, lifting his eyebrows at him.
The doors nearby opened slightly as slowly the neighbors enjoyed watching, judging and listening to their conversation.
Sebastian felt heat rise in his chest the moment he witnessed nearby neighbors enjoying his situation while mocking at him.
“People like you always think you're special.”Mr.Cooper lowered his voice. “Then reality catches up.”
With that he turned and walked away while Sebastian said nothing in response and kept his head lowered. The neighbouring doors closed one after another and like this the audience enjoying his miserable state was finally gone as the performance was over.
Sebastian shut the door behind him and leaned against it and for a moment he stood like that there, all alone. Suddenly his phone buzzed and a message appeared from an unknown sender.
For a second , hope flickered inside him assuming maybe it was information about the debt file or maybe it was another buyer. Instead, it was a news article attached without any explanation.
Sebastian opened it and his expression darkened as the article was three months old. The very day, his career was ruined. The headline read :
FINANCIAL INVESTIGATOR LINKED TO MISSING CORPORATE ASSETS
Beneath it was his photograph. The photograph he hated the most because it wasn't taken at work. It was taken when he was arrested. The article had received over two million views. He couldn't believe his eyes as now he realized that millions of strangers knew his face and who believed he was guilty.
His grip tightened around the phone as another message arrived and this one contained only a single sentence.
We know what you bought .
Sebastian's blood ran cold reading the message and he looked toward the window assuming someone was watching his every move but there was nothing.
His gaze dropped to the debt file resting on the table. This was a mysterious asset with impossible valuation. None of it made sense to Sebastian yet one thing was becoming clear to him that the debt wasn't valuable because of money. It was valuable because somebody desperately wanted it hidden.
The silver glowing words suddenly appeared again brighter than before in front of his eyes.
[ Asset Reassessment Complete ]
[ Ownership Linked Discovered ]
Sebastian stepped closer as his heart pounded with every step he was taking as the message continued.
[ Original Secured Asset Located ]
And a new line appeared below it with just an address. There was no explanation, no details, only a location on the eastern side of the city and then one final warning appeared which made Sebastian's face lose all his color.
[Do not visit alone.]
[Current Claimants : 4]
[One claimant is already waiting there.]
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118. Epilogue (His Home)
The rain had stopped just before dawn, leaving the streets six floors down dark and slick. They mirrored the amber glow of the traffic lights as the morning shift began.Sebastian stood by the glass window of his office, a heavy ceramic mug warming his palms. He watched a delivery truck fight its way into a narrow alley behind a dry cleaner. A few cyclists darted between idling cars. The noise of the city didn't make it through the double-paned glass—just a low, steady murmur, like the distant sound of the ocean.It was quiet. It was routine. It was ordinary. Sebastian loved ordinary mornings.When you spend years living in a storm where every phone call brings bad news, every letter is a threat, and every morning feels like a battle you’re already losing, ordinary feels like a miracle.He turned away from the window and looked at the heavy manila folder resting dead-center on his dark wood desk.Printed across the top in crisp, black lettering were the words: Kane Asset Recovery & I
117. Nothing Left to Chase.
One year later, Sebastian stood in front of the building that carried his name. The sign was no longer temporary.KANE ASSET RECOVERY & INVESTMENTSThe letters were simple, clean, and impossible to mistake. Sebastian stood with his hands in his coat pockets and looked up at the three-story building.The first floor housed the company's recovery department. The second was used for asset evaluation and investment operations. The third had been converted into offices and a small conference room.It was not a huge company. Not yet. But it was profitable. That mattered more.“Are you planning to stand there all morning?”Sebastian turned. Evelyn, now his wife stood behind him, holding two cups of coffee.“I was admiring the sign.”“You have been doing that for five minutes.”“I paid for it.”“You paid the company to install it.”“Exactly.”She handed him a cup. “How much did it cost?”“Less than the first version.”“Why?”“Because Cole found a cheaper supplier.”Evelyn smiled. “You really
116. Kept Walking
Sebastian was halfway through reviewing the warehouse equipment portfolio when Robert Hayes called. He almost let it go to voicemail.The company had been busy since morning. Two clients wanted recovery proposals, a supplier had delayed a shipment, and the bank had sent the credit-facility documents Arthur had promised.Then Sebastian saw the caller's name. Robert Hayes.He answered. “Robert?”“I have an update for you.”Sebastian put down his pen. “About my father?”“Yes.”He leaned back in his chair. “What happened?”“The authorities finished their initial review of the financial evidence you submitted.”Sebastian waited.“They confirmed that the valuation records Thomas Reed preserved are authentic. They also confirmed the ownership and transfer records connected to the transactions David was investigating.”Sebastian said nothing.Robert continued. “They found a consistent pattern of distressed assets being acquired at unusually low valuations and later transferred or recovered at
115. Ready for it.
Six weeks later, Lot 19 looked nothing like the property Sebastian had purchased.The weeds had been cleared.The contaminated soil from the western storage area had been removed and replaced. The damaged drainage line had been repaired, and the underground chamber had been inspected, sealed, and documented.The old warehouse still needed work, but it was usable now. Sebastian stood near the entrance with a folder tucked under his arm while a contractor walked toward him.“Final environmental report,” the contractor said. “Everything we were contracted to address has been completed.”Sebastian opened the folder. “Any remaining restrictions?”“Nothing beyond the standard commercial-use requirements.”“And the drainage?”“Tested twice. No problems.”Sebastian nodded. “How much did we spend?”The contractor gave him the final figure. $20,340.Sebastian checked it against his records. The original estimate had been $20,600. They had come in slightly under budget.“Good,” Sebastian said.T
114. Live with it
Three days after buying the portfolio, Sebastian had collected exactly zero dollars.He stared at the spreadsheet on his laptop and rubbed his forehead.“Excellent start,” Cole said from the other desk.Sebastian looked over. “You are enjoying this too much.”“I am enjoying watching the great Sebastian Kane discover that a forty-two-thousand-dollar recovery estimate does not mean forty-two thousand dollars appears in your bank account.”“It never did.”“You have been staring at that spreadsheet for twenty minutes.”“Because the numbers are wrong.”Cole leaned forward. “Which ones?”Sebastian pointed at the recovery column.“The estimated value assumes six accounts are collectible. I don't think they are.”Cole's smile disappeared. “Then why did we buy it?”“Because I think three are collectible.”“Three?”“Maybe four.”Cole sat back. “That does not sound better.”“It is if we paid the right price.”Sebastian opened the original account files.The portfolio had looked attractive becaus
113. Something of his own
The next morning, Sebastian arrived at the small office he had rented above a commercial storage building on the east side of the city.It was not impressive.The room had two desks, four chairs, a secondhand filing cabinet, and a window that faced the brick wall of the building next door. The paint near the ceiling was beginning to peel, and the air conditioner made an irritating clicking sound every few minutes.Sebastian liked it.Nobody expected a serious investment company to begin in a room like this. That suited him perfectly.He placed his coffee on the desk and opened the ledger he had been using for months. The first page still contained the numbers that reminded him where he had started.$3.72.He turned several pages. The figures changed dramatically.Equipment sales. Debt recoveries. Asset purchases. Lot 19. Expenses. Taxes. Remediation costs. Cash reserves.For the first time, Sebastian was not calculating how long he could survive. He was calculating how much he could s
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