98
Author: Ayomiposi
last update2024-10-12 15:31:37

A few hours later....

The smell of sizzling bacon filled the air, mingling with the warmth of freshly brewed coffee. Carlos stood in the kitchen beside his mother, Angelina, stirring a pot of scrambled eggs while his father, Raymond, toasted bread at the counter. The gentle clatter of plates and the hiss of the stove created a comforting, homey background. It was a rare and peaceful morning, the kind Carlos had longed for. He hadn’t been back here in so long, and after 13 years away, it felt like a small piece of home had returned to him.

Angelina turned toward Carlos with a fond smile, her hands busy chopping vegetables. “I never thought I’d see you back here in this kitchen, helping me make breakfast again. It feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

Carlos grinned, his heart warmed by her words. “Yeah, it does. You know, you always made the best breakfasts. Olivia tries, but no one does it like you.”

Angelina chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “I hope you’re not telling her that, are you? You
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  • The End

    Carlos stepped out of the SUV, his eyes fixed on the modest apartment building. The tension was palpable, a coiled spring ready to snap. Miguel and a few of their men flanked him, their movements swift and precise, well rehearsed from countless operations before. But this one— this was personal.Miguel gestured toward the entrance. "We’ve got the building surrounded. No one’s getting out without us knowing."Carlos nodded, his face a mask of steely resolve as they made their way toward the building. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of anticipation building in his chest. His heart pounded in time with his footsteps, but his expression remained calm, collected.They reached the entrance, a narrow hallway leading to Olivia’s apartment on the second floor. Carlos took a deep breath, steadying himself before he climbed the stairs, Miguel close behind. The air was thick with the humid heat of Mumbai, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but he barely noticed. His focus wa

  • 106

    A Few Months Later.....Carlos sat in the largest office of the company he now owned, the enormous windows stretching from floor to ceiling behind him. The room, once a place of ridicule and frustration, had become his empire— rebuilt in his image, every piece of furniture a testament to his power. Yet, despite the luxury, the carefully curated space, and the city bustling beneath him, Carlos found no peace.His hands gripped the arms of his chair, the tension in his knuckles betraying his thoughts. From this vantage point, he could see the chaotic movement of New York, the ant like people scurrying far below, unaware of the power struggles happening so high above their heads. His eyes were on the horizon, but his mind was far away.It wasn’t the money. It wasn’t the firm. Those were easy victories— too easy, if he was honest with himself. No, the real prize had always been elusive, slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he tried to hold on. Olivia.The name alone sent a w

  • 105

    A few days later....Carlos wheeled out of the elevator, a low hum from its descent fading as the elevator doors hissed shut behind him. The spacious office floor that had once been a place of ambition and humiliation now stretched out before him, utterly transformed. His eyes moved over the sleek furnishings, the modern lighting, and the polished marble floors, but his mind was far from admiring the décor. He could feel the weight of every gaze in the room, every stiffened posture. Miguel, his uncle, stood beside him, tall and brooding with an unreadable expression. Behind them, Carlos’s men – all ex-military and highly trained – flanked him, their presence a silent reminder of who Carlos had become. The former worker, the man once kicked around and demeaned, was now their new boss. The heir of the Martinez empire.The low murmur of the staff hushed the moment Carlos's wheelchair moved forward with a faint electric whirr, the entire floor falling into silence. Heads turned, faces dr

  • 104

    A few months later.....Carlos sat quietly in the large, beautifully landscaped garden of the Martinez family estate. The sun, golden and warm, cast long rays through the trees, painting the glass walls of the house in shimmering reflections. This estate, known as the "Glass Fortress," was hidden deep within the woods, far from prying eyes, a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. The trees around swayed gently in the breeze, the air crisp and filled with the scent of pine and freshly cut grass. Carlos wheeled himself to the edge of the garden path, close enough to admire the serene beauty but far enough to avoid being touched by the world beyond.His fingers absentmindedly traced the cool metal of the wheelchair’s arms, but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of his lost children and the ex-wife who had taken them. He had moments like this often, where he would retreat into the solace of nature, trying to find some peace in the rhythm of the forest, but peace always s

  • 103

    The following night...Carlos sat silently at the edge of the stage, his guitar resting against his knee, watching as the last of the small crowd dispersed into the fading twilight. Andrew and Peter were packing up their instruments, exchanging a few light-hearted jokes, but Carlos wasn’t in the mood for banter. His mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about last night, about Miguel and everything he had said. He was torn between disbelief and a gnawing curiosity that had kept him awake most of the night.“Hey, you good?” Andrew’s voice cut through his thoughts. He was standing beside Carlos, his keyboard case slung over his shoulder. “You’ve been quiet since we finished playing.”Carlos nodded, though his thoughts were still muddled. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, avoiding Andrew’s concerned gaze. “Just thinking.”Andrew raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but didn’t push. “Well, let us know if you need anything, man. We’re here for you.”“Thanks,” Carlos replied, his t

  • 102

    The following evening.....Carlos’s fingers slid over the smooth strings of his guitar, his eyes shut as he strummed the chords with practiced ease. The rhythmic notes echoed through the park, melding into the cool evening air. Andrew sat beside him, his fingers dancing on the keyboard, while Peter tapped his drumsticks lightly against the cajón, filling the space with a steady beat. A small crowd had gathered around their makeshift stage, captivated by the music, swaying gently to the melody. It was a simple life, playing for strangers who’d toss spare change into their tip jar, but it was theirs. For a few hours each day, they were free. Free from the burden of life’s harsh realities, free from the pain and memories that haunted them all.As Carlos played, his gaze drifted across the crowd, briefly landing on a familiar figure. Miguel. The man from the night before. He stood just at the edge of the gathering, his broad frame silhouetted by the streetlights, arms crossed over his ch

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