2025-10-16 04:02:53I felt a tap on my back. I gently raised my head from my mom's embrace, rubbing my eyes. Dr. Julian and a nurse stood beside me, the nurse holding a clipboard. "Good morning," Dr. Julian said. "Morning, what do you want?" I replied. "We need to check her vitals," he said, his hand gesturing towards my mom.
I stood up and left the room, watching Dr. Julian and the nurse through the door. After a few minutes, Dr. Julian came out, facing me. "How's she doing?" I asked, hoping for good news. "Her body isn't responding to treatment, and she needs a new heart urgently," he said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I'll go pay the bills," I said, trying to process the news. "Keep her stable and breathing until then." Dr. Julian nodded. "I'll go inside and let her know I'm leaving," I added. He nodded again, his hands on the door handle. "And please don't tell her," he said, turning back to me. "Okay, I won't," I replied. I kissed my mom's cheek, whispering, "I'm going to go search for a job." She winced, her eyes blurry, but she faced me. Her hands found their way into my hair, caressing it. "Good luck," she whispered, her voice strained through the oxygen tube. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I kissed her knuckles. "Thank you," I said, before quickly leaving so she wouldn't see me cry. The cold air hit me as I stepped out of the hospital. It was time for me to face reality. I took a bus to New York City, determined to find a good reporting job. But after hours of searching, I was met with rejection. Every company seemed to say the same thing: "No vacant spot" or "Not hiring at the moment." I pushed the thoughts aside and walked into a small restaurant, taking a seat by the window. A slender figure in a black and white apron, with sand-colored hair, called out my name. "Jones!" It was Maxwell, my best friend. We used to tease him about being a waiter instead of having an "official" job. We shook hands, and he sat down across from me. "What's the problem, bro? Aren't you going to get to work?" he asked. I hesitated, trying to hold back tears. "I lost my job... and my mom's been hospitalized. She needs a new heart." Max's expression turned sympathetic, and he shot me a comforting gaze. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were carrying all this burden." "It's not your fault, brother," I said, trying to reassure him. "I just don't like spreading my problems to people." Max nodded understandingly. We talked for a while, and I found some comfort in his company. He offered to help me out, lending me some money to cover half the hospital bills. He also offered to get my mom her favorite meal: chicken noodle soup and a chicken burger. "Thanks, man," I said, smiling. "I'll get going to the hospital." Max smiled back, his eyes genuine. "No need to thank me. You've done more for me in the past, remember? You'd drop everything to bail me out of trouble. I appreciate what you've done for me, bro. You showed me what it feels like to have a brother." "My regards to your mom," he said, as we parted ways. "Take care of yourself, brother. Come see me tomorrow." I nodded, I felt a sense of gratitude towards him. When I got to the hospital, i went to my mom's room. As i stood in the doorway, I saw Marie Yoon-Ah my Korean American girlfriend. She wore a white shirt tucked into her blue pant, more like an official work outfit and her long hair swaying at her back . She had light makeup, though without the makeup she's still pretty and a matching necklace and earrings. We met when I was on an interview section with Kai Won Alexander. It was crazy and thrilling when she ask for my number from a colleague. We became friends, but she wanted more for us than friend, And so did I. We've been dating for the past six months, she has been so supportive and caring even when I wasn't showing more of it. I Love her so much cause she makes everything seems easy and makes me want to do better. And offer her a good life, the kind she's used to than this miserable one I'm living. She said something that made my mom laughed while she giggles acting cute. The view of both women made my heart sink into happiness and a smile lit up my face.
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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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