Chapter 5 - The Architect of GriefGabriel’s breath caught in his throat. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
“Pastor Thomas?” Gabriel whispered, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.
The elderly, distinguished man smiled warmly, the exact same grandfatherly smile he had worn the day he blessed Gabriel and Clara’s marriage.
“Hello, my boy,” the pastor said smoothly, adjusting his glasses. “I’m glad you finally made it to the service.”
“You...” Gabriel stepped forward, blind rage overriding all caution. “You buried my wife! You held our hands! You told us God had a plan!”
“God has a wonderful plan, Gabriel. But wealth requires management,” Pastor Thomas said calmly, walking over to a control panel on the wall. “Do you have any idea how many wealthy, grieving men there are in America? Men who lose their wives, inherit a fortune, and sink into a depressed stupor while their children suffer? We simply... reorganize them. We provide new wives, new structures, and new futures. And in return, the estate is consolidated.”
“You’re a monster,” Gabriel growled.
“I am a businessman,” Thomas corrected sharply, his grandfatherly warmth vanishing in a heartbeat, replaced by a cold, corporate ruthlessness. “And your son, Lucas, was scheduled to be liquidated tonight because he was asking too many questions about his mother’s silver cup.”
“Where is he?” Gabriel roared, lunging forward.
Two massive men in tactical gear stepped out of the shadows, slamming Gabriel to the concrete floor before he could take three steps. The tire iron skidded across the tile.
May you like
Pastor Thomas looked down at him with quiet disappointment.
“You really should have stayed on the road, Gabriel. The highway is much safer than the truth.”
