2025-10-16 04:00:58BACK TO THE PRESENT: BEFORE THE GALA
As the bus stops at every road andstreet Jones's gaze never shifted. Frustration filled his eyes. He had mixed emotions. He lost his job and has no idea on what to do next with his life without a job. The job was his only surviving option, though the pay is low but it fits the bills and covers his mom's health insurance. The company was going bankrupt, possibly due to financial instability or because they crossed the wrong person. The release of a tape featuring Kai Won, a renowned artist, accusing him of counterfeit painting, all in the name of telling the "truth". The unemployment rate in New York city was higher than the employment rate. Youths are miserable, pushing them to commit crimes which also increases the crime rate of the country. The rich are getting richer while the poor are getting poorer. Jones slammed his head hard against the window in anger. He felt a sharp pain, but it can't be quantified with the pain he's feeling about being a failure. "Why me?", he muttered to himself, throwing his head against the window. Everything has to be a struggle for him. The phone rang, drawing him out of his thoughts, he pulled it out of his pocket. The caller ID showed no name, "Hello, am I speaking with Jones Walterson?", the other end asked. For some crazy reason, Jones wished it was a job opportunity. "Yes, you're",he said, "We need you at the hospital, your mother Sarah Walterson was just admitted." "Shit", he mutters. "Hello, hello!!", the caller said, all Jones could respond to her was pure silence. He ended the call without asking for the hospital name, because he knows there's only one that's a bit affordable in his hometown for people around the neighborhood. "Stop! Stop.. stop the bus", he yelled to the chauffeur drawing attention to himself. He jumped off the bus with his bag and coat to the hospital like a criminal escaping his greatest prison. Breathing heavily, he stumbled to the nurse desk, scaring the young lady. " Hey I'm Jones I got a call that my mom was admitted. Where's she", he asked panting. "Over there sir, the third room by your left". Jones fled immediately. He slowed his pace when he saw his mother lying on the bed with oxygen support. He wiped the tears streaming down his eyes. A hand held him back from going into the room, he turned his gaze from the knob to the doctor standing in front of him. It was Dr.Julian, he's been treating his mother for years, he respects him so much for his help. "Hey man, come with me ", Julian says drawing him out of his mother's view to a corner. "Her heart is failing and she needs the surgery immediately..... before her heart stops", Julian said with concerned looks. "I can't afford it. Is there any medication or treatment you can offer?......l-l...like the last one", he says stuttering, tears streaming down his eyes. "No, there isn't. It's either the surgery or she won't survive", Julian said facing the ground. Jones felt like all hope was lost. "I lost my job today. What am I suppose to do?", Jones said laughing out his pain with tears. He walks out of Julian, to take a seat before meeting his mom. Julian eyes lingered all over Jones with pity. "Doctor Julian, your attention is needed", a nurse on blue uniform said, Julian withdrew his eyes from Jones and followed the nurse. When he got inside room, it scent of lavender, he could only hear the beeping of the machine in the beside his mom. Her short brown chestnut hair was spread on the pillow, her strands of her bangs covering her eyes, her white glowing skin looks paler than in the morning."Hey mom, it's me", Jones whispered. His mom's face lit up with a warm smile mixed with pain she doesn't want me to be aware of, but I know. "Are you okay?, how you feeling?", he asked in hesitation. "I'm fine, how you doing?, don't lie to me". Yeah she knows, I'll definitely lie about how I'm feeling. "I lost my job today, but nothing to worry about, I'll get another", I told her the truth, yet I know getting another job will be difficult. "I know you will, this is just a bump in the road. You get passed it", she said holding tight to my hands, the world would see your light and talent", he giggled along with her. The room echoes with conversations of mother and son bonding.
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CHAPTER 52
Max pushed through the bar doors into the cool night air, the noise fading behind him. Marie followed close, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if holding in everything she refused to let spill. "You’re sure about this?" Max asked, glancing back at her. Marie nodded, though her eyes betrayed the storm within. "You promised." He didn’t argue again. The police station was quieter than expected—low voices, the hum of fluorescent lights, the occasional shuffle of paperwork. Max spoke briefly with the officer at the front desk, and after a moment, they were granted access. Marie’s steps slowed as they approached the visitation room. Inside, a thick pane of glass divided the space in two. She stopped just short of the chair. Then the door on the opposite side opened.Jones stepped in. He froze. For a second, neither of them moved. It was as if the world had narrowed to the space between them. "Jones…" Marie’s voice broke on his name. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks a
CHAPTER 51
Chapter 51 The door shut with a muted thud. Old Walterson adjusted his coat as he lowered himself into the backseat of the sleek black SUV. The scent of leather and polished wood filled the space, familiar, controlled—just the way he liked it. Up front, Hunter glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Where to, sir?” Old Walterson leaned back, eyes half-lidded. “Let’s go pay an old friend a visit,” he said calmly. “To the prosecutor’s office.” The ride was smooth. Silent. Calculated. Minutes later, he stepped into the office and took his seat without waiting to be announced. His sharp eyes scanned the room. Minimalist. Clean. Disciplined. Then his gaze settled on the name carved into a polished plate on the desk: Edward Whitmore. A ghost from the past. A door creaked open. A man in his late fifties walked in, a chuckle already forming on his lips. “Walterson…” Edward. Older, yes—but the same eyes. Observant. Curious. Old Walterson studied him quietly, catch
CHAPTER 50
Too many paintings. Too many explanations. Too many smiles I didn’t feel. My hands still ache from holding brushes all morning, my voice dry from talking buyers through every piece like I wasn’t exhausted. I sink into the couch in my uncle’s office, my back pressing into it as I tilt my head back and close my eyes. Silence. Finally. It’s been almost an hour. He said he had “something important” to take care of and left me here waiting. I let out a slow breath, my fingers resting loosely on my lap. Then— ding. My phone lights up beside me. I reach for it lazily, already expecting nothing. But it’s him. A message. Sorry, I won’t be coming back to the office. Head home. We’ll talk tomorrow. I stare at it for a second. Then— “Huh…” The sound leaves me weak, frustrated. I drop my hand, phone still in it, and exhale heavily. Of course. My eyes sting. I blink once… twice— Too late. Tears spill, sliding down my already warm cheeks. I press my lips together, trying to
CHAPTER 49
Too much baggage. Too much weight for one soul to carry for long. Sometimes I wonder… what would happen if I let go? If I finally free myself… release this imprisoned soul. Would I become the traitor? The bad egg? The one who tears the family apart?Maybe there’s no freedom for me. Maybe this is the punishment. For Martin. For Susan. The past clings like a shadow I can’t outrun. No matter how fast I move, it follows—whispering, reminding, suffocating. I exhale sharply in the backseat of the car, my fingers tightening against my thigh. The city lights blur past the window, but my mind is far from here… trapped somewhere I wish I could forget. I asked Mario to meet. A simple meeting. Neutral ground—at a restaurant. But no—he insisted. Dinner. His house. Of course. A faint, bitter smile tugs at my lips. Control. It has always been his game. The car slows to a stop. “We’ve arrived, sir,” the chauffeur says. I don’t respond immediately. Just one more breath… before stepping
CHAPTER 48
Her heels echoed sharply against the polished floor as she stepped out of the elevator into the quiet reception area. The building was almost empty at this hour — too late for anything normal. Her phone buzzed inside her bag. Melissa pulled it out, already irritated. Allen: Meet me at the spa. An address followed. Melissa stared at the screen for a second before typing back: Be there soon. She slipped the phone away with a quiet sigh. Who goes for a spa session this late? The answer came just as quickly. Her mother. Of course. Melissa stepped out into the night, her jaw tightening as an old memory clawed its way back — one she never truly buried. Her father, sick. Weak. And Allen… laughing. Not alone. With Mario. In the same bedroom. That night never left her. It lived somewhere deep in her chest — a wound that refused to close. Every time it surfaced, it brought the same thing with it. Pain. And something darker. Hatred. Since her father’s death, Allen had neve
CHAPTER 47
Johnny didn’t waste time. By morning, he was already standing inside the Walter mansion. The air in the room felt heavier than usual. Not tense—just… settled. Like everyone already knew whatever he was about to say wouldn’t be good. Logan stood near the window, hands in his pockets, gaze distant but alert. Lucien leaned against the table, arms folded, watching Johnny closely. Old Walterson sat quietly, his presence alone commanding the room. Johnny stepped forward. “The technician is dead.”Silence followed. Not shock. Not surprise. Just confirmation. “They ruled it an accident,” Johnny continued. “But before he died, he realized something. His report never made it into the case log.” Lucien’s expression hardened slightly. “So it was pulled,” he said. Johnny nodded. “Before it even got there.” Logan’s jaw tightened. That meant only one thing. Someone wasn’t just reacting to the situation—they were controlling it. “External pressure,” Lucien muttered. “They’re cleaning
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