Chapter 5
I didn't drive the Porsche.
When I got to the underground garage, I stood there for a good ten seconds, just staring at that white Cayenne.
I calmed down.
What, drove his car? Let him call the cops and say I stole it?
He'd love nothing more than for me to screw up again and get thrown back inside.
I dropped the keys on the roof and walked out of the garage.
I walked away.
March in Novena, and the wind was still biting.
I was wearing the same paper-thin suit from eight years ago.
I found a convenience store on the street and bought a pack of cigarettes.
Winston Reserve.
I pulled out my wallet and saw the price had gone up.
I lit one, took a drag, and coughed my lungs out.
Damn, eight years since my last cigarette.
I crouched outside the convenience store, trying to sort out my thoughts.
First, the money.
Richard owed me 30 million dollars, and that debt was set in stone.
I had proof: a recording and a signed agreement from back then.
Handwritten, signed by him, and stamped with his fingerprint.
Where was it?
It was with my mom.
Before I got locked up, I handed my mom the agreement and the USB with the recording. I told her, if anything happened to me, she should bring them out.
But my mom...Sarah just said she told her she was bad luck.
I know my mom, who always preferred sons, never showed my wife any respect.
After I went away, she must've gotten even worse.
I had to make sure she still had that agreement.
Second, Sarah.
Did I hate her?
Yeah, I did.
But not enough to go all out against her.
Did I buy her story, no income, the kid was sick, and she was out of options?
I believed about half of it.
Sarah wasn't the kind to mess around or cheat.
When she married me, I was a nobody, just renting a place and riding an electric scooter.
She still chose to marry me.
But people change when they're backed into a corner.
Especially for a mom with a kid.
I couldn't stand on some moral high ground and say, "You should've handled it all by yourself."
Hell, I couldn't handle it myself. I even took the fall and did time for someone else.
No one's got the right to judge anyone here.
But that doesn't mean I accept it.
It doesn't mean I forgive her.
And it sure as hell doesn't mean Richard gets off easy.
Third, my daughter.
Lily, my little girl.
She didn't even recognize me.
That hurt the most.
It stung even more than seeing Sarah move on.
Every year I was inside, I wrote letters and tried to get word out.
Sarah wrote back a few times, but after the first three years, the letters just stopped.
I thought maybe the prison lost them or something.
Now that I think about it, she probably just didn't know how to tell me what happened.
Lily was calling Richard "Dad".
That fact stabbed at my throat, stuck there, impossible to swallow or spit out.
I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up.
First, I needed to figure out where I could stay tonight.
I dug through my pockets.
They handed me 600 dollars for living expenses when I got out.
Plus the 120 dollars that had been sitting in my wallet for eight years.
Total: 720 dollars.
In Novena, that kind of money...
Would barely cover a week at a cheap hotel.
My phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
I picked up.
"Edward? It's me, Paul."
Paul Mason.
Back at Bluewave Holdings, we were close, almost like brothers.
"How'd you know I was out?" I asked.
"My wife's sister lives in Emerald Gardens. She said she saw you," Paul replied.
"Word travels fast."
"Where are you now? I'll come pick you up."
"I'm outside the convenience store," I said, giving him the address.
"Don't move. I'll be there in ten minutes."
Twelve minutes later, a black Buick pulled up in front of me.
The window slid down.
Paul Mason looked way older than eight years ago. His hairline had receded almost to the back of his head, but he still had plenty of energy.
"Get in," he said.
I opened the passenger door and slid inside.
The car was warm.
Paul glanced at me, taking his time before starting the car.
"You've gotten skinny."
"You've gone bald."
He laughed and hit the gas.
"Let's get you something to eat. You must be starving."
"Yes."
He took me to a little joint and ordered a spread of all the classics.
Roast beef, honey-glazed ribs, grilled salmon, and a cold cuts platter.
Every single dish was something I used to crave eight years ago.
I tore into it without a second thought.
Eight years of prison food? That wasn't food. It was animal feed.
Paul waited until I'd eaten my fill before he finally spoke up.
"So, about what's been going on at home you know, right?" he asked.
I kept eating, not missing a beat.
"Yeah, I know."
"Who told you?"
"I saw it with my own eyes."
Paul let out a sigh.
"I tried to reach you before you got out, but I couldn't get through."
"What did you want to tell me?"
"It's about Sarah and Richard."
I picked up a rib and bit into it.
"How long have you known?"
"About two years ago. They posted about their wedding on social media. You know Richard. He loves to show off, wanted the whole world to know he married a young, pretty woman."
They even threw a wedding.
They actually went through with a wedding.
The bone from the rib jabbed into my tooth.
"Alright," I said, putting down my forks and wiping my mouth.
"Paul, I got a few questions for you. Just give it to me straight."
"Shoot."
"First, what's Richard's situation now? Bluewave Holdings still in business?"
"Yeah, they're still around, and way bigger than eight years ago. These days they're into real estate, new energy, you name it.
"Richard's still running the show, but I've heard some of the money behind the scenes is pretty shady. Can't say for sure though. I left Bluewave ages ago."
"Second, what have you been up to since you left Bluewave?"
"I set up a small bookkeeping business. It's nothing big, but I'm surviving."
"Third," I looked him straight in the eye. "will you help me?"
Paul set his glass down and looked me right in the eye.
He just stared at me for three seconds, not saying a word.
Finally, he spoke up. "Edward, what are you planning?"
"I'm getting back what's mine."
"30 million dollars?"
"That's just the beginning."
Paul looked at me.
The Edward from eight years ago would've just said, "Forget it, throw a few punches to blow off steam, and let it slide."
But that's not me anymore.
He could tell just by looking at me.