Chapter 4 - THE SUBURBAN HELLSCAPEThe Maybach tore through the empty streets of Queens at an illegal speed, slicing through the freezing Christmas morning mist.
According to the dossier, Clara Hale lived in a crumbling, dilapidated apartment complex on 4th Street—a neighborhood plagued by broken streetlights, trash-strewn alleys, and landlords who ignored broken heaters in the dead of winter.
When the car pulled up to the curb, Ethan stepped out into the biting cold. The building looked like it had been abandoned decades ago, its brick facade crumbling, the front door hanging off a rusted hinge.
He walked inside, his expensive leather shoes clicking loudly against the grimy linoleum floor. The hallway smelled of damp cardboard, cheap cooking oil, and despair.
He found Apartment 4B on the third floor. There was no doorbell; just a scratched wooden door with a faded wreath hanging crookedly from a rusted nail.
Ethan raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles could hit the wood, he heard voices filtering through the thin door.
“Mommy, is Santa still coming?” Lily’s small, fragile voice drifted out. “Even if we don't have a tree?”
Clara’s voice replied, soft, trembling, and choked with unshed tears. “Of course he is, sweetheart. Santa knows where we are. He brings things that matter—love, and being together. Now close your eyes and go to sleep, okay? Tomorrow is going to be a good day.”
“Did you eat anything, Mommy?”
“I’m not hungry, baby. I ate at work. Go to sleep.”
Ethan knew she was lying. The dossier had noted she hadn't bought groceries in three days, and the single loaf of bread and discount candy canes she had dropped in the snow were likely all they had.
A sharp, unbearable pang tore through Ethan’s chest—a sensation he hadn't felt since he was a starving child in Chicago.
He didn't knock. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed his chief of corporate security, Arthur Vance.
“Arthur,” Ethan said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly intense register. “I want every single debt collector, eviction notice, and medical bill attached to Clara Hale wiped clean by 8:00 AM. Clear them. Pay them off in full. Double it if you have to.”
“Sir? It’s Christmas morning—”
“Do it, Arthur, or I’ll strip you of your title and your stock options before the sun comes up.”
May you like
The line went dead with a nervous swallow on the other end.
Ethan pocketed his phone. He looked back at the crooked Christmas wreath on Apartment 4B. The game was over. He was going to fix this, no matter what it took.
