The Chauffeur Who Could Hear Thoughts

The car fell silent.

My name is Fred O'Donnell, and I was born with the ability to hear what other people are thinking.

After graduation, that knack turned me into a top-rated chauffeur in just two years.

My previous boss once claimed he didn't want a late-night snack, but in his head he was craving the clam chowder bread bowls from that little place on the south side of town. I blamed traffic, took a detour past the shop, and he got the very last bread bowl of the night. The next day, my pay doubled.

When my boss had a client he didn't want to make small talk with, I drove as fast as I could and took the back streets. When it was the other way around, I made sure they had plenty of time to talk.

My motto had always been: eyes on the road, mouth shut.

This time, I'd jumped ship to the Schur family for three times the market rate.

Trent Schur, the head of the family, was notorious as the devil incarnate. He was brilliant but ruthless, and so finicky that he was nearly impossible to please. He went through drivers like he bought them wholesale every quarter.

I'd planned to make him feel right at home. Instead, on my very first day, I was already pushing my luck.

Five hundred thousand dollars versus five hundred bucks. The gap was just too ridiculous.

"Who are you?" Trent looked up at me. "Since when does a driver get a say in my family's business?"

"Please don't be angry, Mr. Schur," the assistant in the passenger seat hurried to say. "Mr. O'Donnell was only worried about your son..."

Victor Schur, the eldest son, let out a soft laugh. "Dad, don't get worked up. The new driver doesn't know the rules yet. He means well."

'A mere driver sticking his nose in the Schur family's business. What a pain. I'll have him replaced the second we get back.'

'Why hasn't Luke Schur gotten out of the car yet? Having him around the house is an eyesore anyway.'

I glanced at Victor in the rearview mirror.

Everyone said the eldest Schur son was refined, gentle, and accomplished. I never expected his mind to be meaner than the broken glass on the side of the road.

'Why does this new driver have to run his mouth? He deserves to get fired.'

'Here we go again. Every time Victor opens his mouth, I'm the one who gets yelled at.'

The young son the Schurs had finally found and brought home, on the other hand, might have grumbled that I was a busybody, but there was a hint of concern underneath it.

I hit the brakes, and the car came to a smooth stop in front of the Schur family's old estate.

Luke immediately threw the door open and walked off in the opposite direction.

Bracing myself, I got out and called after him. "Mr. Luke, please don't go yet."

He turned back, his expression cold. "What?"

"Today's Thanksgiving. It's a day for the whole family to be together. Storming off in a huff seems like bad luck."

Then I turned to Trent, who had just stepped out of the car, and explained, "I just think there might be some kind of misunderstanding here. Looking at what he's wearing, Mr. Luke doesn't seem like someone who spends five hundred thousand a month."

I pointed at his shirt. "This is the same one I bought at a discount store last week. Fifty bucks. And his shoes are splitting along the edges. Maybe there's been a mistake somewhere. You could go over the accounts together!"

Trent's gaze dropped to Luke. He froze for a few seconds, and his expression slowly changed. "Where has all your money gone?"

"Here we go again," Victor cut in, sounding helpless. "We buy him new clothes, and he refuses to wear them. He insists the old ones are more comfortable. We can't do anything with him, and now even outsiders have the wrong idea about us.

"As for the money, there are plenty of ways to blow it online."

Trent's face darkened. "I give you money so you can focus on your studies, not so you can throw your life away on games."

Luke's head snapped up. "I didn't!"

Victor sighed softly. "Luke, is that any way to talk to Dad?"

"I don't need your fake concern."

Trent's expression turned stormy. "What kind of attitude is that toward your brother?

"Losing you was my fault. But ever since we found you, I've given you everything I owed you, and you still walk around acting like you've been terribly wronged. What are you trying to do, make everyone think we mistreat you?"

Luke didn't respond.

'Their idea of taking care of me is a few hundred bucks a month, and they still expect me to keep up a rich family's image.

'I've told them so many times. Nobody believes me.

'If they didn't want to raise me, why bother bringing me back? Victor alone was enough for them.'

He looked at me, his eyes cold and guarded.

'He's no different. He just wants to watch me make a fool of myself.'

As the tension thickened, I quickly jumped in. "You only need to say one thing. How much did you actually spend this month?"

"What's it to you?"

"You're right, it's none of my business." My palms were drenched in sweat. "But if you tell us, at least one person will believe you."

Trent's head whipped toward me. "What's that supposed to mean? A driver has no say here."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Mr. Schur, I know saying this might get me fired tomorrow. But Mr. Luke is wearing a fifty-dollar shirt. His jacket is pilled from washing, and his shoes are splitting along the edges. Don't you think something's wrong here?"

Victor's expression shifted slightly.

'This driver is way too nosy!'

His thoughts were full of malice.

"Fred, you're fired."

The assistant grabbed my arm, ready to throw me out.

Luke's mouth twisted. "All I spent this month was five hundred dollars on school fees."

He looked at Trent, his eyes red.

"I honestly don't know how much more I'd have to save before you'd stop thinking I'm wasting money."

Trent stood frozen. He pulled out his phone and quickly scrolled through the statement.

"But according to this... you spent five hundred thousand dollars this month."