The Opportunist

The man staggered, trying to steady one foot in front of the other as he approached Thomas. His clothes hung loose and stained, jacket frayed at the cuffs, shirt unbuttoned too far. His hair was uncombed, thinning at the crown, skin roughened by years of neglect and cheap alcohol.

Even from inside his car, Thomas could almost smell him.

The man squinted as he looked through the driver's side, then smiled eagerly. Too widely.

“Hello sir?” His voice slurred, but was loud. “Is… is this the billionaire’s house?”

Thomas stared at him, something cold settling behind his eyes.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “State your business.”

The man chuckled, rubbing his palms together like he’d stumbled upon luck. “Ah. Thought so. Knew it. This place is massive. Bloody massive. My God.”

He craned his neck, peering past the gate as though he could absorb the wealth by sight alone. “My daughter married well.”

Thomas raised a brow. “Your daughter?”

The man nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes. Piper. Piper McDowell. Lovely girl. Fine artistic. Takes after her mother, God rest her nerves.” He laughed again, then coughed, bending slightly at the waist before straightening. “You must be her husband, then. The rich one.”

Silence stretched.

Thomas’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“You’re mistaken,” he said. “There’s no one here by that name.”

The man waved it off. “Oh, no, no. She lives here. Everyone knows. Married into money. Billionaire husband. Big house.” His eyes gleamed. “Funny thing, life, isn’t it? Daughter grows up poor, next thing you know, she’s sleeping in silk sheets.”

Something sharp flickered in Thomas’s chest, irritation edged with something uglier.

“And who are you?” he asked.

The man puffed his chest slightly. “Father. Her father.” He hesitated, then added, “Well… biological. Things happen, you know. Family fights. Women hold grudges. But blood is blood.”

Thomas let out a short, humorless breath.

“So you show up unannounced at my gate,” he said, voice low, controlled, “to admire the size of my house and announce your relationship.”

The man grinned, unfazed. “I thought I should see where my daughter ended up. Maybe… maybe catch up.” He leaned closer to the speaker. “She didn’t tell me she married this well.”

There it was. He always knew Piper was only here for the money.

Thomas’s mouth hardened.

“She isn’t here,” he said. “And she doesn’t receive visitors like this.”

The man frowned. “Ah. Pity.” Then his expression shifted, calculating. “You could pass along a message. Tell her I came by. Tell her… her old man’s proud.” He paused. “And maybe remind her family’s family.”

Thomas stared at the man for a long second longer, committing the image to memory. The greed. The entitlement. The resemblance he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Get lost." He said coldy. Turned the engine back to life and zoomed off.

He veered into the busy road for the hospital, jaw set, disgust curling hot and familiar in his gut.

So this was where she came from. This was the root. A man who smelled opportunity and followed it to the gate.

It settled something in him, disappointingly so.

Of course she’d learned how to survive. Of course she knew how to plead. Of course desperation came so easily to her.

Thomas found Piper still seated on the floor in the ICU hallway. It took her a moment to notice him.

She lifted her head sharply, eyes red, swollen, hope flickering despite herself.

“Thomas—”

He didn’t let her finish.

“So,” he said, glancing at her. “This is it.”

Her lips parted. “Nana collapsed. They said her kidneys— they need to operate. I need money. I just—”

He laughed.

Not loud. Not cruelly amused. Just a short, hollow sound that held no warmth at all.

“You people are consistent,” he said. “I’ll give you that.”

Her face drained. “What?”

“I met your father,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “At my gate. Admirable timing.”

Her breath hitched violently. “You… what?”

“Drunk. Ragged. Proud.” His gaze sharpened. “Came to admire the house. Came to claim his share.”

She shook her head, panic rising fast. “I don’t speak to him. He left us. He has nothing to do with—”

“And yet,” Thomas cut in, “here you are in a hospital, talking money and crisis.” He tilted his head. “You see how it looks.”

Her hands curled into her sleeves. “My stepmother is dying.”

“That doesn’t change the pattern.”

She pulled up, voice breaking. “Please. I don’t care about anything else. I just need part of the settlement. The contract— it allows—”

“So you can take it and disappear?” he finished. “Like him?”

Her knees nearly buckled.

“I would never—”

“I know your plans,” he said calmly. “You think I don’t? Kiss me in front of witnesses. Cry. Run. Now this.” He smiled thinly. “You’re not subtle.”

Tears spilled freely now, streaking down her cheeks. “I stayed for the children. I stayed because you asked. Because I promised.”

“And now you’re asking for money.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Because she’s all I have left.”

He studied her for a long moment. The red eyes. The shaking hands. The raw, humiliating need she couldn’t hide even if she tried.

Then he reached into his pocket.

Pulled out his checkbook.

The pen scratched loudly in the silence.

He tore the check free and flung it at her.

It struck her chest and fluttered to the floor.

“Take it,” he said. “But don’t insult me by pretending this is loyalty.”

She dropped to her knees without thinking, hands scrambling as she picked it up, fingers clutching the paper like it might dissolve.

“Thank you,” she sobbed. “Thank you.”

He turned away.

“I don’t want to get home before you,” he said over his shoulder. “Get back home. Now!”

And then he walked out, his footsteps steady, unhurried, leaving her kneeling on the cold hospital floor with a check in her hand, and tears spilling down her eyes.