Chapter 11
708words
"Hit-and-run claims local businessman's life." The accompanying image was blurred, but the dark stain spreading across the pavement was unmistakable.
Nathan opened another file—a video clip.
The footage was shaky but clear enough to recognize Victoria.
"Our guy was tailing her. He caught the whole thing."
Victoria walked along the sidewalk in a daze, like a ghost drifting through the living world.
A truck suddenly swerved toward the curb, engine roaring, clearly targeting her.
Just before impact, Alexander—who'd been following several paces behind—lunged forward and shoved her clear!
Victoria tumbled onto the sidewalk as Alexander disappeared beneath the massive wheels.
The truck never slowed—just plowed over him and sped away.
"Targeted hit," I said flatly.
Nathan nodded. "Former supplier for Reed Corp. Victoria's schemes bankrupted him. Wife killed herself over the debts. He'd been stalking her for days, planning to take her out."
I closed the video and sipped my tea.
"Huh."
Karma's a bitch. I didn't even have to lift a finger.
Victoria had lost everything.
Her company collapsed. Assets seized. Everything auctioned to cover the mountain of debt.
Those precious Reed shares she'd schemed five years to obtain? Worthless paper.
Miranda and Tyler cleaned out the safe, grabbed the family jewels, and vanished—leaving Victoria alone with the creditors and lawsuits.
Debt collectors hounded her daily—smashing windows, splashing paint, scrawling "PAY UP" and "BLOOD FOR BLOOD" across her walls.
She was too terrified to return to the mansion that would soon be seized, so she went underground.
Eventually, our guy tracked her to a filthy studio in the worst part of town.
Roaches scuttled across the floors. The hallway reeked of rancid cooking oil and piss. A far cry from her former luxury.
Nathan handed me the surveillance photos.
In them, Victoria wore threadbare clothes, her hair unwashed, eyes vacant, digging through a dumpster with a plastic bag clutched in her fist.
I could barely recognize the proud Victoria Reed in this broken woman.
"Want to help her along one more time?" Nathan asked casually. "We could tip off those loan sharks about her new address."
I studied the photos, then tossed them back on the table. "No need."
Let her live.
Let her taste the bitterness, the poverty, the hopelessness—let her feel what the real world is like.
Let her remember the genuine love she threw away, every night as she shivers in the dark.
That's the cruelest—and most fitting—punishment for her.
"Let's go, brother. Time to really move on." I stood as sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming away the last shadows of my time with the Reeds.
Nathan smiled—a real smile—and clapped my shoulder. "About damn time. Let's go home. Tickets are booked."
We climbed into the car and left the temporary safe house behind.
The car glided toward the airport, the city blurring past the windows.
This glittering metropolis that had once been my prison was now just scenery passing by.
I leaned back and closed my eyes.
This wasn't an ending.
It was a rebirth.
The real life of Ethan Turner was just beginning.
Ahead lay endless possibilities, freedom, dignity, and the unconditional love of family.
All those things that had been trampled—I would reclaim them one by one, polish them, and let them shine as they were meant to.
Months later, I received an update on Victoria.
She was barely surviving—drowning in debt, her health shattered by malnutrition and trauma. She'd resorted to dumpster diving in the city's worst slums.
She'd lost her grip on reality—wild-eyed and filthy, accosting strangers: "Have you seen Ethan? He left me! I was wrong… I found his necklace…"
Apparently she clutched some tarnished chain wherever she went.
After that? There was no "after that."
Maybe she froze to death on some winter night. Maybe debt collectors drove her to jump off a bridge. Or maybe she just crawled into some darker hole to struggle on like a wounded insect.
Who cares?
Who gives a damn about another nameless beggar?
Sometimes, in quiet moments, fragments of those five years flash through my mind.
Like scenes from a nightmare.
But dawn has broken.
The nightmare is over.
I've walked away completely, without a single glance back.
