Chapter 8 - The Price of GreedThat evening, the rain fell softly over the Chicago skyline as I drove my old pickup truck back toward our suburban home.
The air smelled clean and crisp, washed clean of the emotional wreckage that had haunted these streets for months.
When I walked through the front door, Mia and Leo ran down the hallway, throwing their arms around my waist.
“Daddy! Can we make pancakes for dinner tonight?” Leo asked excitedly, looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes.
“ pancakes it is, buddy,” I laughed, picking him up and tossing him over my shoulder as Mia cheered.
Later that night, after the kids were safely tucked into bed and the house had grown quiet, I walked out onto the back porch with a cup of black coffee.
My phone buzzed on the patio table.
It was a text message from an unrecognized, prepaid local number.
“Osborne, please... just five minutes of your time. I’m staying at a cheap motel near the interstate. I have no money, no car, and nowhere to turn. Please, for the sake of our history.”
I stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment.
May you like
Then, I opened my contacts, blocked the number permanently, and tossed the phone onto the cushion beside me.
History is something you build with loyalty, sacrifice, and truth. Elliot hadn't built history; she had rented a lifestyle and tried to pay for it with someone else’s foundation.
