Chapter 7 Wondering

Anthony tucked his phone away and waited for Timothy beyond the crowd, mentally calculating the fees needed for all the extracurricular activities.

Fencing classes was the most expensive one of the lot, coming at a total of 38 grand annually. Of course, the bill did not include the cost of the equipment Timothy was going to need.

The robotics class came second at 28 grand a year, and competition gear wasn't included either.

Cello was a niche instrument and hard to learn. It cost 22 grand annually, and the instrument was not included either. He found his lips curling when he totaled the cost as it came out to nearly 100 grand, which was about how much Linda made a year. Perfect.

Still, that was just the beginning.

She still had to pay for competitions, exams, equipment, change of instruments, and more. Every single one of those bills would burn a hole in her pocket for years and years to come.

Once the bills hit, she would have no choice but to pay every single cent of it. True to the sunk-cost fallacy rule, she was going to end up paying more than she had first invested.

More importantly, these classes didn't just cost a fortune, but they also required crazy talent for the student to actually master them. Unfortunately, that was something Timothy didn't have. He would get nothing out of learning those things.

Linda was going to spend almost her entire annual salary on three expensive but useless classes for Timothy.

Anthony couldn't wait to see her face when she realized how much it had all cost.

He was still grinning when Timothy came out, his blue bag slung over his shoulders. He still looked sickly as he trudged over slowly, the flu bogging him down.

Anthony didn't pinch his cheeks or stroke his hair like he usually would, simply waving at the boy.

Timothy found it odd, but those thoughts flew out the window when he got into the backseat and looked around. His fingers splayed across the wooden trim, his eyes going wide as he blurted, "Did you get a new car, Dad?"

"Yeah. I made some money." Anthony buckled up and looked at the boy through the rearview mirror.

"Are you going to keep staying home?"

Anthony's hand hovered over the seatbelt. He looked at the boy through the rearview mirror again. The boy hung his head low, his fingers twisting around his bag's strap.

That wasn't something a six-year-old would ask. It was far too self-interested. "Who told you to ask me that?"

"No one." Timothy blurted jerkily, his fingers spasming over the Velcro.

"Did your mother ask you to ask me if I had a good day?"

Timothy's fingers stopped twitching. He looked at the rearview mirror before lowering his head.

Anthony had to stop himself from laughing. 'He didn't answer me.'

Still, he forged on as he shifted into gear and pushed the handbrake down, saying, "I made some money, and I want to make something out of you."

"Make what out of me?"

"You've always wanted to be a hero, yes?"

Timothy's eyes lit up. "The kind who helps people in need, right?"

Anthony nodded as he explained warmly, "That's right. I signed you up for fencing lessons. You'll be wearing white protective gear and a mask, and you'll be holding a sword. Would you like that?"

Timothy had a happy look on his face. He let out a short giggle, his arms flailing in the air. It seemed that he was miraculously cured of his flu. How wonderful.

Anthony couldn't help but revel at the thought of seeing a bratty demonspawn being cultivated. So, he added, "I've also signed you up for robotic classes. It's like LEGO classes but better. If you can master that, you can even make your own Transformer. Yeah, they can move too."

"My own Transformer? The kind that moves?" Timothy shot up from his seat, but the seatbelt pulled him back. "Yes, please!"

Anthony's smile deepened. He saw the boy's face turning red with excitement through the rearview mirror, bouncing happily in his seat.

Ah, naive six-year-olds. They thought fencing was hero practice, and robotics meant Transformers.

He had no idea these classes would fill his weekends, summer holidays, and winter breaks with class after class. Well, that wasn't his problem.

"Tim, fair warning. Your mother might not agree."

Timothy froze mid-movement and asked curiously, "Why?"

"The classes cost a fortune, and your mother's a scrooge. She might be reluctant to part with her money."

Timothy grew anxious. "What do we do?"

"She's always wanted you to learn an instrument." Anthony turned the steering wheel and went into their neighborhood. "If you'll go to cello lessons, she'll probably say yes to the other classes. She'll think you're actually trying to learn something instead of just goofing around."

Timothy mulled over it and nodded seriously. "Tell Mom I'll do it."

"Sure." Anthony parked his car and killed the engine. Then, he turned to the boy and said gently, "But we need to keep the other classes a secret."

"Why?"

"Let's surprise her. I'll tell her we're going out soon, then I'll take you to those lessons. You'll play a piece for her once you master it. Can you imagine the look on her face when she sees you with the cello?"

Timothy nodded vigorously, his eyes lighting up. "That's a promise. It's a secret."

"Yeah. This is what we call a white lie." Anthony smiled and got out of the car.

Timothy followed him, his bag bouncing as he got into fencing poses. They got home, and Timothy changed his shoes at the entryway. Suddenly, he said he wasn't feeling good and asked if he could start doing homework later than scheduled.

Anthony looked at him and said he could kill time with the iPad.

Timothy froze before beaming in delight. He hugged his bag against his chest as he eagerly dashed into his room.

Anthony smiled at the boy lovingly. 'Eh, he's not my son anyway. Who cares if he's not studying?' He shrugged his jacket off and noticed grease spots on the dining room table.

Linda did the dishes for once the day before, but she didn't clean the table.

He didn't bother cleaning her mess. He tossed his jacket onto the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and scrolled on his phone.

Samuel sent him some messages, but they were all photos.

The first showed a man coming out of an Audi Q7. The second showed that same man putting his arm around another woman, and they were coming out of an apartment. The third and fourth were close-ups of the happy couple.

The timestamp at the bottom right read, "2.03 p.m. today".

Anthony stared at the photos for a while, wondering if he should call the cops on them. He shook his head with a chuckle as he saved those photos in an encrypted album.

After that, he texted Samuel, "Keep following them. Find out Darius's company's financial situation, the shareholders' factions, and whether it has any external guarantee. You'll get an extra ten grand if you also get pics of them going at it."

He paid Samuel ten grand right away. Samuel took it without hesitation and responded with an "OK" emoji.

The door swung open a little after 6 p.m.

Linda came in and changed into her indoor shoes. When she entered the living room, she checked the kitchen as usual.

The lights were off, and the stoves were empty. The pot was still in the same place she remembered. She frowned. She was about to say something when she saw a new car key on the shoe cabinet.

It was a BMW.

The iconic blue-and-white pattern in a circle practically seared itself into her retinas.

She froze for a few seconds, staring at the key, then she looked at Anthony, who was going through a bunch of short videos on the couch. Linda wanted to say something, but she held herself back.

After all, Darius told her to be patient.

Plus, she wanted to find out where Anthony got the money for the car.

She looked around but didn't see the Passat's key. That only raised more questions than answers. She wondered if Anthony had a secret stash of money she had no idea about. Her face fell, and she put her bag down.

She took the car key and went into the living room.

Anthony heard the sound and turned his head.

He had been wondering why that woman wasn't acting up yet. A smile curled his lips as he turned his attention back to his phone, deliberately liking every thirst trap he saw.