Chapter 4

Ray walked into the real estate agency next to Mallory Avenue.

"Here to look at a place, sir?" a male agent greeted him almost instantly.

Ray nodded. "To buy."

The agent's face lit up as if someone had just turned on all the lights inside him. "Of course! What kind of property are you looking for?"

"I've already decided," Ray said. "I want the sole villa in Mallory Avenue. Call the owner. I'll sign today. I'll pay the listed price, but I need the keys immediately. Renovation starts today."

The agent blinked, almost certain he'd misheard.

Was this real life? A buyer just walking in, offering to pay full price—on the spot?

"This—yes, yes, of course! I'll call right now!" His voice trembled with excitement.

That villa was listed at 1.2 million. Even with his meager half-percent commission, that meant six thousand in his pocket. Six thousand, from one deal!

Good thing he wasn't a woman, he thought fleetingly, or he might have suspected this guy was trying to seduce him.

Half an hour later, the owner arrived.

Everything went smoothly. Ray wired over a hundred-thousand-dollar deposit. Once the paperwork was ready, they could head straight to the county recorder's office to close the deal.

The seller, seeing the deposit and Ray's ID, happily handed over the keys. It wasn't like there was anything left inside to steal—just an empty shell, no valuables, and some old furniture.

The agent was over the moon. His coworkers could only look on, half in awe, half in envy. One hour of work, six thousand earned—it was a story that spread fast.

Within hours, the tale rippled through the agency network, through Mallory Avenue, and by nightfall, every gossip-loving person in the community had something new to chatter about.

…

Ray walked into the villa, the key cool in his hand. The facial-recognition gate recognized him automatically; he was already a registered resident. Inside, he sat down and opened his laptop.

Time to search.

For what? Home renovation.

He filtered by reviews and reputation, then dialed a number.

"Hello?" a gruff male voice answered.

"I want to renovate a villa," Ray said.

"No problem," came the reply.

"I have one requirement," Ray continued. "It needs to be solid. As in—someone could hit it with a hammer, and it still wouldn't break. The windows, too—install retractable steel shutters."

The line went quiet for a moment. Clearly, the man hadn't heard such a request before.

But business was business.

"No problem," he finally said.

"How long will it take?"

"At least six months," the man replied. "Depends on the villa's size."

Ray smiled. "I need it done within two months."

There was silence on the other end.

This wasn't a shed or a kennel. A full villa renovation in two months? Impossible.

"…That'll cost extra," the man said at last.

"No problem." Ray beamed.

The contractor froze. He hadn't even named a price yet.

"Where are you?" he asked quickly. "I'll come take a look first."

"Alright," Ray said, giving him the address. He'd already read plenty of reviews about this company—every one of them praising their ability to handle "impossible" projects.

Two months to turn an ordinary villa into a steel fortress—it was the kind of job no one should be able to do. But this was Gohaven, the land of miracles in concrete and steel. If anyone could pull it off, it would be them.

He set his phone down and opened his trading app, fingers moving with precision. Memories and data flooded back, strategies unfolding like instinct.

But before the contractor arrived, someone else showed up at his door.

…

The Gantts were home watching their grandson when someone banged on the door—loud, urgent knocks that rattled the frame.

"Who is it?" Josh grumbled as he shuffled over.

When he opened the door, he found Judy Cosgrave from Building 7—famous in the neighborhood for her sharp tongue and endless gossip.

"Josh," she blurted out, eyes glinting. "You really kept this one quiet!"

He blinked. Kept what quiet?

Ah—could it be the divorce? Had the news already spread? Impossible. No one in the family would talk about something so shameful. Unless—

That bastard Ray!

Realization struck, and Josh exploded. "That damned brat! Hit me yesterday, and now he's spreading divorce rumors everywhere! Trying to make a fool out of us?

"Ungrateful wretch! We fed him, clothed him, took him in—and this is how he repays us?"

Judy stared, momentarily stunned. Divorce? Well, well. That made things even juicier.

She smirked. "So it's true! Your daughter and son-in-law are divorced! Oh, Josh, you're something else." She gave him a mocking thumbs-up.

"I just heard from the real estate agent—your ex-son-in-law, Ray, bought that villa in Mallory Avenue. 1.2 million! Didn't even haggle!"

"What?" Josh nearly shouted.

Ray? Buy a villa?

Impossible. Ray made barely over five thousand a month, almost all of which went to them. After the divorce, he'd left with nothing. How could he possibly afford a 1.2-million-dollar villa?

"It's true!" Judy laughed. "Go see for yourself!"

Josh faltered. As annoying as she was, Judy wasn't one to invent gossip from thin air. Still—Ray buying a villa? It sounded like nonsense.

"Josh, your family's moving up in the world!" Another neighbor, Kelly Brook from upstairs, hurried over, eyes wide with envy. "A villa! That's incredible!"

Josh swayed on his feet. His head buzzed. One person could be mistaken, but two?

Judy, thrilled to stir the pot, turned to Kelly. "Didn't you hear? Josh's daughter and son-in-law divorced!"

"What?" Kelly gasped. "Josh, really? You let go of a son-in-law who can buy a 1.2-million-dollar villa? You know, my daughter Jenny's still single. Maybe I'll introduce them."

She wasn't joking.

A man who could drop 1.2 million in cash on a house? Divorced or not, who cared? Wealth erased everything.

Besides, everyone in the neighborhood knew it—Ray was a catch.