A passerby retrieved my cane and helped me to my feet.
Leaning on it, I stumbled toward the exit.
Only one thought burned in my mind.
I'll kill him.
I'll kill him!
But the entrance wasn't far. The people around hadn't reacted in time, and he'd slipped away. Traffic and crowds—nowhere a trace of Derek.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from him on the messaging app.
A photo.
He'd Photoshopped my daughter's picture with his own. Crude work, posed like a couple.
And one line of text:
"She's mine."
Strange—looking at that photo, I couldn't stop cold-laughing.
He was right about one thing. I had a family and a career, so I'd been cautious, always backing down.
But he should never have crossed a father's bottom line.
That night, after Elena had tucked Sophie in, she came to my side. She already knew what had happened that afternoon.
"If he follows us to Boston... what do we do?" she choked, helpless. "I don't know how to protect Sophie anymore..."
She was right. Angry, running—none of it worked anymore.
I stared darkly out the window. All day, countless plans had churned through my mind. Plans for revenge.
Now, at last, one had crystallized. The most vicious revenge I could devise.
"Don't worry. I'll make their whole family disappear."
"Disappear completely," I said.
I knew this plan was cruel. But I had no other choice. For my wife and daughter, they had to be destroyed. Desperate for the rest of their lives.
A few days later, Elena and Sophie, along with my parents, took the train to Elena's family home.
Meanwhile, I'd had my dad post something on social media—a photo of him cooking, with the caption:
"Survived the worst. Good fortune ahead. Back home, making my granddaughter's favorite dish."
The post was public. I knew Derek would see it. I wanted him convinced that our whole family had returned to Millbrook, Sophie included.
He'd stay put, scheming from this little town.
Derek, the show hasn't even started. Stay right where you are.
After straightening the empty house and finishing a cigarette, I started a group call with my college roommates.
They thought I was calling to wish them a happy New Year. My first words were:
"I need your help. This is dangerous—you could end up paying a steep price yourselves."
"You can say no."
A few days later, three strangers arrived in Millbrook. Out-of-town accents, luxury cars—anyone would've pegged them as wealthy investors.
They were my roommates.
After hearing my plan, they hesitated. Of course—they had families now, the same age of having everything to lose.
But after a long silence, they agreed.
I was surprised.
They said they agreed precisely because of my line: "This is dangerous. You can say no."
Only true brothers would say something like that.
After the New Year, businesses in Millbrook were reopening. Three days later, three out-of-town businessmen showed up at the auto repair shop where Derek worked.
They claimed to be investors interested in buying the place.
The shop had been losing money year after year. The owner had been eager to sell for ages.
And these three were aggressive negotiators, always pushing the price down.
The owner had no suspicions whatsoever—they were perfect marks.
After several rounds of dinners, the deal was done. The three investors officially became the shop's owners.
Derek's bosses.
The buyout wasn't cheap. I'd mortgaged my parents' house and drained every penny of my savings.
For this revenge, I'd wagered everything.
The new bosses kept things exactly as they were; the employees noticed nothing different.
Except the bosses had one little hobby.
They liked to play cards.
Derek had noticed—they kept inviting him to join them.
Their reasoning was sound: "You've been here the longest. If we want to get to know the crew, we should talk to you. Cards in the evening—what do you say?"
Derek kept refusing.
Which I expected. He was obsessed with how to get Sophie. Why would he waste time socializing?
That evening, the three bosses drove their luxury cars straight to Derek's house.
"We came to visit our best employee, maybe grab a drink."
The lead boss, dressed in designer clothes, shook hands with Derek's father with genuine warmth.
They'd brought several cartons of premium cigarettes for his dad, and a thick red envelope for his mother.
Derek's family was barely scraping by. His parents' eyes went wide.
Derek still refused to go.
The bosses didn't push.
"We'll be playing in the office. Drop by if you're free."
They left without lingering.
But I knew the bait was in the water.
Derek scraped by on a little over a thousand a month, always on the verge of being fired. With bosses showing him this kind of attention—how could his parents let him pass it up?
Sure enough, that night, Derek knocked on the office door. He'd brought fruit, stumbling through awkward flattery.
No doubt his parents had coached him.
At home, I read my roommate's live updates on the messaging app.
I couldn't stop cold-laughing.
I remembered what he'd said at the hospital—that I had a family and career, so I was always afraid to act.
Turns out, everyone's the same.
Meanwhile, I was at home, studying security footage.
After buying the shop, the "three investors" had pulled all available recordings—only the last month, but enough.
We found something telling.
New Year's Eve, deep into the night. Derek and his parents had sneaked into the auto repair shop.
They'd taken the entire set of tools.
What for? Selling for scrap?
No.
That very night, they'd flooded our family group chat with curses, wishing us dead.
The next day, we drove back to Boston. Our car mysteriously lost control and plunged toward the cliff. If not for sheer luck, we'd have died on impact.
My knuckles cracked as I clenched my fists.
Of course. My car was always parked outside. To sabotage it, Derek would've needed lookouts.
His parents were his accomplices.
Stage a crash. Kill our whole family. Then Derek would "adopt" Sophie. His parents would walk into our inheritance, take everything.
I trembled—with fury, but also with a flick of dark excitement.
This revenge—now I could go through with it without a shred of hesitation.
From then on, every night, Derek was summoned to the office for cards.
His luck was remarkable—he won far more than he lost. By the end of each session, he'd pocket a tidy sum.
His wallet grew fatter. At the shop, he spoke with more confidence. The employees kissed up to him, seeing how close he'd gotten with the bosses.
He even started bossing people around, acting like some kind of junior manager.
A petty man tasting petty power—the oldest story in the book.
And that was exactly the face I'd been waiting for.
Don't worry, Derek. Better days are still ahead—for you to enjoy.
In my living room sat a man. Buzz cut, thin, mild-mannered—looked like a tutoring instructor.
He was actually Millbrook's biggest loan shark.
His name was Victor Chen. Every dime he lent came back, one way or another.
His "financial company" had methods that drove debtors to misery and ruin, yet stayed perfectly within the letter of the law.
I proposed a deal. He accepted eagerly.
For him, it was pure profit, zero risk.
I poured him a drink. He paused. "You want to destroy him at the card table... shouldn't you learn some sleight of hand? I could teach you."
I shook my head. "Not necessary. Making someone win doesn't require trickery—just letting them."
"What we need is for him to keep winning, right up until the very last moment."
"The abyss that'll kill him—we don't need to push him. He'll jump on his own."
He stared at me, then understood. He raised his glass with a grin. "Someone like you—stay out of my casinos. Remember that."
I smiled back. "Trust me, I don't want my legs broken a second time."
That evening, the usual card game. Derek was on a winning streak, riding high.
The lead boss lit a cigarette and studied him with an odd look.
Derek flinched. "Wh-what?"
"How's your luck so good? You cheating?"
Panic flashed across Derek's face—no doubt he was cursing himself for not throwing a few hands, afraid he'd angered the boss.
He stammered. But to his shock, the boss burst out laughing.
He clapped Derek hard on the shoulder. "Just kidding, just kidding."
He called over the other two, popped open a beer, and clinked glasses with Derek.
"I want to make you the company's legal representative. One condition—you've got to chug this."
Derek looked uneasy.
The boss grinned. "Kid, you've got the best luck. Make our shop lucky too. Humor me?"
The other two gave Derek pointed looks.
"Can't you tell? He wants to groom you for bigger things."
Derek beamed—genuinely happy—and downed it in one go.
The next day, Derek became the legal representative.
First day on the job, his salary multiplied tenfold. The bosses treated him like a brother, talking about opening a second location and putting him in charge.
All day, the flush of excitement never left his face.
And it was time to close the net.
By early spring, most of the snow on the streets had melted. Neon signs flickered over the modest storefronts.
As usual, the three bosses were playing cards with Derek in the office.
But tonight, something shifted.
Derek kept losing.
Except luck was still on his side—every losing streak ended with an incredible hand. He'd come back from the brink, winning tens of times his bets.
After several rounds, his face toggled between bright and dark, sweat beading on his skin. His eyes never left the cards.
The clock ticked past midnight. Derek looked terrible—another losing streak had drained nearly all his cash.
The bosses glanced at the time. "That's enough for tonight. Let's grab a late-night snack and call it."
Derek couldn't bear to stop. The momentum had convinced him that after every losing streak, the next hand would be a sweep—winning back a hundred, a thousand times over.
"One more hand? Just one?" he pleaded.
The bosses looked reluctant. Then the leader "remembered" something. "Let him play with you."
They opened the door to the inner room and dragged out a battered man.
Derek's eyes went wide with disbelief—then twisted into savage delight.
That man was me.
Bruised and bloody, I glanced at Derek and spat blood-tinted saliva onto the floor.
"What's wrong with him?" Derek asked.
"This guy owes us a lot of money back in Boston. We came here to buy the shop and tracked him down."
The lead boss punched me twice more. "Go on, try running again."
"Can't believe it. Really can't believe it," Derek muttered, electrified.
"You know each other?"
"Don't know him."
Derek enunciated every word, unable to contain his euphoria.
"Play him. Whatever you win is yours. We'll take a break."