Chapter 7 - Desperate Men Burn Bridges
Desperation has a distinct smell: cheap motel sheets, cold fast food, and the copper tang of sheer panic.
Ethan Cole sat on the edge of an unmade bed in a three-star motor lodge off Cicero Avenue, watching the local news on a television screen that buzzed with static.
His face was on the screen.
The banner running along the bottom was devastating:
**FEDERAL GRAND JURY INDICTS FORMER TECH CEO ETHAN COLE FOR SECURITIES FRAUD, FORGERY, AND PROCUREMENT MISCONDUCT.**
His bank accounts had been frozen by federal marshals at noon. His penthouse on Lake Michigan had been sealed with yellow judicial tape. The luxury car dealership had remotely deactivated his leased sports car, leaving him stranded in a suburban parking lot until he had been forced to pay a cab driver with the last two hundred-dollar bills he had tucked into his shoe.
His phone vibrated against the nightstand. It was a burner phone he had purchased at a gas station two hours ago.
He snatched it up, pressing it to his ear. “Did you get it?”
A rough, gravelly voice answered. “We traced the server repository, Cole. But you didn't tell us who was guarding the Hyde Park property.”
“It’s a brownstone!” Ethan hissed, his fingers digging into the cheap mattress. “It’s an old three-story brownstone Nia inherited from her aunt! She keeps her legacy backup drives in a fireproof safe in the basement study! All you have to do is kick the door in and take the drives!”
“You’re an idiot, Cole,” the voice spat back. “The brownstone isn't empty. There are three black SUVs parked on the corner. Two men with tactical hardware are sitting on the roof. Julian Seo has a full perimeter watch on that entire block. If we go within fifty feet of that gate, we’re coming back in body bags.”
“I’m paying you fifty thousand dollars!” Ethan screamed, his voice cracking into hysteria.
“You don't have fifty thousand dollars, you washed-up clown,” the voice sneered. “The check you gave us bounced twenty minutes ago. Don't call this number again.”
The line went dead.
“Wait! No! Don't hang up!” Ethan slammed the burner phone against the wall, shattering the plastic casing into half a dozen pieces.
He fell to his knees on the dirty carpet, clutching his head in his hands, his breath coming in ragged, shallow sobs.
He was ruined. Truly, completely ruined.
Claire was gone, her father’s lawyers preparing a legal wall that would keep Ethan tied up in divorce court for a decade without a dime of alimony. His company had discarded him like an old rag, re-branding under Nia’s name with Julian Seo’s money backing every move. In less than a week, he had plummeted from the pinnacle of American tech royalty to a hunted fugitive facing ten to fifteen years in federal prison.
“It’s her,” he whispered into the empty, decaying motel room. His voice was filled with a venom so pure it burned his throat. “It’s all her. If she had just signed the papers… if she had just stayed in the dark where she belonged…”
He looked across the room at the mirror above the dresser.
The man staring back at him was unrecognizable. His hair was matted with sweat, his eyes sunken and feral, his jaw covered in a patchy, graying stubble. The smooth, charming Ethan Cole who had charmed senators and venture capitalists had vanished.
Only the parasite remained.
He stood up, walking toward the small desk in the corner. Tucked beneath the Gideon Bible was an old Glock 19—a gun he had purchased years ago for home protection and kept in the trunk of his car, forgotten until yesterday.
He picked it up. The cold steel felt heavy, unnatural in his hands. He didn't know how to shoot properly. He had never been in a fight in his life; he had always hired people to fight for him, hired people to build for him, hired people to protect him.
But Julian Seo had stripped away his money. Claire had stripped away his status.
The only thing he had left was his rage.
He checked the magazine. Thirteen rounds.
He knew where Nia was. She wouldn't be at the Hyde Park brownstone—not with the security team stationed there. She would be at the only place she felt truly invincible: the thirty-second floor of the Cole Cyber Tower, finalizing the transition with Julian’s legal team before the weekend.
May you like
Ethan pulled his coat tightly around his shoulders, tucked the weapon into his waistband, and walked out into the cold, drizzling Chicago night.
***
