Chapter 7

Wayne's Office, That Evening

Wayne sat at his desk, unable to focus. His mind kept replaying the fight with Mateo. He gave up on work and decided to head to his mother's house instead — it had been a while, and tonight felt like the kind of night he needed her.

He packed his laptop and told his driver to take him to the family estate.

The Estate Gates

It took almost an hour to get there. The gate slid open on its own the moment his car pulled up — the guards had already recognized him.

"You can head home, Jack," Wayne told his driver. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Mr. Puis, the head of security, came out to greet him with a wide smile. He was in his sixties, and he'd worked for the family since Wayne was a boy — one of the few people who'd looked out for him growing up.

"Look at you," Mr. Puis said, pulling him into a hug. "Abandoning us like that."

"Never you, old man. Just... life's been busy."

"You still owe me a proper visit. On my day off."

"Soon. I promise." Wayne smiled. "Is my mother in?"

"Not yet. Should be soon."

"Don't tell her I'm here. I want to surprise her."

"You got it."

Wayne's Old Room

The house was quiet, as always — beautiful, but empty. Wayne dropped his bag in his room, grabbed a snack from the kitchen, and settled in with his laptop.

An hour later, he heard a noise downstairs.

He got up, ready to go find his mother — but then he heard something else. A cry. A man's voice, pleading.

He froze at the door.

Downstairs (Through the Door)

"Where is my money, Drake?" Milord's voice was low and terrifying.

"Boss, I swear, I was robbed. Someone took it."

"You think I'm a fool? Do you know how much money that was?"

"I'm telling the truth, sir, please—"

There was the sound of a hand striking flesh. Wayne flinched behind the door.

"Two hundred thousand dollars, Drake," one of Milord's men snapped. "You don't play games with that kind of money."

"I told you, I was ambushed after the handoff—"

"Shut up," another voice barked, and Wayne heard something heavier hit the man — the butt of a gun.

Wayne's stomach turned. He thought about calling the police, but he knew from experience they'd do nothing useful. He'd had break-ins at his own office before, and all they ever did was take notes after the fact.

Then he heard his mother's voice.

"Milord. How many times have I told you not to run this filth in our house?"

Wayne almost make a sound. She knows.

"Relax, Queen. We'll deal with him tonight," Milord said. "Take him to the cage."

"Bring him back," Queen said, calm but sharp enough to stop the men mid-step.

They looked at Milord. He nodded.

"Put him on the chair."she commanded.

Wayne stayed frozen behind his door, listening. His mother's voice had a strange power to it — quiet, but impossible to ignore.

"You need cleaning up," Queen said to the man, gently turning his bruised face toward her. "Do you have the money?"

"No, ma'am. I swear. I was robbed."

"I have a son your age," she said. "A good, honest businessman. Tell me — how many siblings do you have?"

"J-just my sister. And my mother."

"If you had to choose — which one would you lose?"

The man broke down. "Please. Don't hurt them. Kill me instead."

"Alright."

Wayne heard a sudden, sharp thump — not a gunshot exactly, more like something wrapped and muffled. Then the man screamed. "My leg...."

"Your mother must love you very much," Queen said, cold as ice. "It would be a shame if you joined her sooner than expected. Because if you don't talk, I will find her. And I will kill her too."

"Please! I'll tell you everything, just don't shoot again!"

Wayne stood frozen behind the door, his hand pressed to his mouth.

"He's ready to talk now," Queen said to the others. "Clean him up. He's still useful until we have the money."

She walked away. Wayne didn't move for a long time.