Chapter 2

Over the years, I'd devoted my entire life to Wrenley. So, I didn't have any friends to turn to. After she'd stripped me of my position, even the coworkers I used to exchange a few words with had begun distancing themselves from me.

I'd called everyone in my contacts, but not a single person was willing to lend me money. I couldn't even get anyone to lend me 40 dollars.

Thinking of my mom, who was now lying in the tiny refrigerated compartment at the morgue, I gathered what little hope I had left and called Wrenley.

The phone rang over and over, but she never answered. All I heard was the cold automated message.

I tried messaging her on social media, but the moment I sent it, a notification popped up saying we were no longer friends. I tightened my grip on my phone.

I then composed a text message, telling her to call me as soon as she saw it because I had something urgent to discuss. I kept my eyes glued to my phone, not daring to let my guard down for even a second. I was terrified of missing a single message or call.

Just as my battery was about to die, the screen finally lit up. Wrenley's name appeared.

I hurriedly answered, feeling hopeful.

To my surprise, a drawling male voice came through, and it was dripping with contempt.

"Bowen Yaeger, you've got quite a few tricks up your sleeve. The moment you realized using your mom's critical condition as an excuse didn't work, you came up with another one about needing money. Do you really think Wrenley is stupid?"

I ignored Martin's sarcastic remarks. I didn't have the time or energy to entertain him, so I immediately told him to put Wrenley on the phone.

Hearing that, Martin scoffed.

"Forget it. Wrenley isn't going to take your call. She's busy right now. She's taking me to an upscale Fermondian restaurant later. The entrance fee alone is a thousand dollars per person. Someone like you, who lives on plain meals every day, wouldn't understand the finer things in life.

"So, I guess I'll just have to enjoy them on your behalf. Did you want to borrow money from Wrenley? Keep dreaming. As long as I'm around, you'll never get what you want. Hmph."

With that, he hung up.

When I tried calling again, her phone was suddenly unreachable.

In a way, Martin was right. I couldn't even afford 4 dollars right now. How could I possibly know what a Fermondian meal costing at least a thousand dollars would taste like?

We were both bodyguards, and I was even the team leader. By all rights, my salary should have been higher than Martin's. But in reality, he earned ten times what I did.

I only made five thousand dollars a month, while he took home 50 thousand dollars.

Perhaps Martin had been special to Wrenley from the moment he'd joined the Quale family. I'd just been too blind to see it. Even when he'd repeatedly picked fights with me, challenged me, and started taking credit for my work in front of everyone, I'd assumed it was an issue with his character.

I'd never once suspected there was something more going on.

Looking back now, I'd been terribly naive.

The nurse's voice gradually pulled me out of my thoughts. "Sir, hospital policy allows a maximum of three days for payment. Please settle the outstanding balance as soon as possible."

I clenched the bill in my hand and replied after a long silence, "Got it. I'll pay the full amount within three days."

The nurse nodded and walked away.

As I was trying to figure out how to raise the money, a notification popped up on my phone, informing me that my property registration had been approved.

The moment I saw it, I stumbled to my feet. This was exactly what I desperately needed right now.

I'd bought the apartment so Mom could enjoy her retirement there. It was only a tiny studio unit that was barely more than a hundred square feet, but it had the advantage of being near public transportation.

Now that Mom was gone, the property no longer served its original purpose. I might as well sell it and use the money to give her a proper funeral.

With that thought in mind, I quickly listed the apartment at a low selling price, hoping someone would be interested in it.

Before long, a potential buyer contacted me. After arranging a meeting place, I hurried home to retrieve the property certificate.

Looking down at the thin sheet of paper in my hands, I couldn't help but feel emotional. It might have been nothing more than a tiny studio apartment, but it was proof of my seven years of hard work.

I'd saved every penny little by little from the odd jobs I'd taken on in my spare time. Not a single cent had come from my salary as a bodyguard for the Quale family.