Chapter 38
CAYDEN
My running shoes hit the asphalt in the rhythm of my heartbeat, and sweat burns in my eyes. I wipe the moisture away with the back of my hand as the sun beats down unmercifully on my shoulders. I don't care. I need this physical exhaustion to release the pressure.
Yes, even billionaires feel pressure. Honestly, it’s often that very pressure that makes us so successful.
One week remains. Seven days until Collins expects that article on his desk. Seven days until Hayes holds out the pen for me to sign.
But with every passing day, I grow more restless. Vaughn has vanished into thin air after his brief sign of life. No data. No "all clear." Nothing.
I keep running; the path leads directly into the recreation area outside the city limits. My calves burn. What happens if Vaughn fails at the firewalls? I lose my life’s work.
A month ago, that thought would have driven me insane. Wealth defined my human value to me. Fame was my shield against the constant reproaches. I fed my ego with fat balance sheets.
But last night, I sat with Jade on the living room rug eating greasy pizza out of a box.
Parker sat right between us and shoved a PlayStation controller into my hand.
We played a silly car racing game (he slaughtered me).
I heard his laughter. I saw Jade’s look as she gave me the last piece of salami without a word.
In that moment on the floor, I lacked nothing.
I keep running. The steps suddenly feel lighter.
The trees thin out. The gravel path opens to a lake. The water's surface reflects the sunlight. My sprint becomes a light jog. My pulse calms.
An elderly couple sits on a wooden bench by the shore. The man wears a faded flat cap; the woman has a cardigan draped over her. They toss dry bread crumbs into the water, causing a group of ducks to quack around their feet.
I stop, hands on my knees, gasping for air. I watch them. Even if they don't talk much, they seem to have an invisible connection. The man silently hands his wife a paper bag; she reaches in. Their fingers brush. It’s a casual gesture. A gesture that carries decades of familiarity.
I straighten up slowly. What have these people seen in their lives?
They’ve likely raised children. They have grandkids running through the garden on weekends, tearing up half the house.
They share a story. They sit on a Tuesday morning by a lake feeding birds and seem perfectly at peace with themselves.
That’s exactly what I want.
I don't want to end up as a lonely billionaire surrounded by sycophants who only eye my bank account. I want to sit on a wooden bench like that with Jade. I want to see Parker grow up. I want to be there when he drives his first car. I want to experience his first real heartbreaks and teach him how to get back up after a defeat. I missed the first ten years. I’m certainly not letting the rest be taken from me.
I walk to a drinking fountain by the path and press the metal button. The water arches upward. I drink greedily and splash a handful onto my face.
Then my phone vibrates.
I unlock the screen, holding my hand over the glass to block the blinding sun.
My email app shows an unread message. I tap the icon, and my heartbeat accelerates instantly.
The inbox loads. An email from an anonymous sender sits at the very top. No subject. No text. Only a file attachment.
I stare at the display. The wait is over.
I sit on a nearby bench and spend the next thirty minutes looking at what Vaughn dug up.
Then I hit the lock button. The screen goes black.
I don't need my empire for my ego. But I’m certainly not letting an asshole like Hayes use my city, my club, and my family as a game piece. And thanks to Vaughn, a bomb is about to go off that Hayes won't see coming.
I turn around, heading back home. But I’m not running. I’m sprinting.