"What do you want?" Aaron asked, his voice steady despite the four men surrounding him.
The leader, a burly man with a cruel sneer, chuckled. "We ain't here for your pocket change, pal. We're just here to deliver a message. Thorne says hi."
The name hit Aaron hard. Richard Thorne. The CEO of Titan Enterprises. Aaron had assumed the threat of exposure would keep him in line. He'd been wrong.
"Listen," Aaron said, raising his hands. "Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it. There's no need for this to get ugly."
The man laughed. "Nice try. But Mr. Thorne wants this to be real ugly. He was very specific about that. Get him, boys. Break his legs first."
The thugs lunged forward. Aaron braced for impact, but the first swing never landed.
Two figures in black suits moved with impossible speed. Before the first thug's bat could connect, a hand shot out, catching it mid-swing. A sharp twist, a crack of bone, and the thug screamed, dropping his weapon.
Anthony and Victor, the bodyguards from the hospital.
The second thug swung wildly at Victor, who sidestepped and moved inside his guard, delivering short, brutal strikes to his ribs and throat. The man crumpled, gasping.
The other two hesitated. That hesitation was their undoing. Anthony moved between them, disarming one with a strike to the elbow and incapacitating the other with a knee to the solar plexus.
The entire fight lasted less than ten seconds. Four armed men lay groaning on the pavement.
Aaron let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thank you."
He turned to the leader, who was clutching his broken wrist. "I think your boss needs an update."
He nodded to Victor. "Get him on the phone with Thorne."
The thug spat. "Go to hell."
Victor grabbed the man's uninjured arm and twisted it behind his back, applying pressure until the man cried out.
"Fine! Fine! I'll call him!"
---
In his penthouse office, Richard Thorne swirled a glass of wine, smiling smugly. His phone buzzed - the burner phone he'd given the crew leader. He smiled wider, taking a sip before answering.
"Tell me some good news."
"The job is done, boss," the thug's strained voice came through. "He didn't put up much of a fight."
Thorne's smile turned triumphant. "Excellent. Did you make him suffer? I was very clear about my instructions."
"Oh yeah. He suffered," the man said, wincing as Victor applied more pressure. "He's not getting up again. You should come see for yourself. Proof of a job well done."
The idea of seeing Aaron's broken body filled Thorne with sick pleasure. "Yes, I think I will. Where are you?"
The man gave him the address of an abandoned warehouse by the docks.
"Perfect. I'll be there this afternoon. Don't move a muscle until I get there."
He hung up, feeling invincible. The threat was eliminated. Now he just had to erase the evidence.
---
Meanwhile, Sarah Prescott was drowning in paperwork in her office. Her assistant, Anna, knocked before entering.
"Ma'am, there's a young woman here to see you. She says she's from the Winston Villa Offices."
Sarah frowned. "Winston Villa? I don't have any business with them. Are you sure she has the right person?"
"She was very specific, ma'am. She asked for you by name."
"Alright, send her in."
A moment later, Amelia walked in, looking nervous but determined. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Prescott. My name is Amelia. I'm sorry to bother you at work."
"It's no problem. How can I help you?"
Amelia opened her briefcase and took out a thick stack of documents. "I was instructed to bring these to you for your signature."
She slid them across the desk. The top documents were property deeds.
Sarah's eyes widened as she read: The King's Castle and Serenity Villa.
"I think there's been a mistake," Sarah said. "These are incredible properties, but I've certainly never bought them."
"I understand your confusion, Mrs. Prescott," Amelia said earnestly. "They were purchased for you this morning by an anonymous benefactor. The payment has been cleared in full. All that is required is your signature to transfer the deeds into your name."
Sarah was stunned. "Anonymous benefactor? Fifty-million- and ten-million-dollar villas gifted to me? It makes no sense. Who? Who would do this?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, my instructions were clear. The buyer wished to remain completely anonymous," Amelia replied. "He only asked that I tell you to please review the property deeds and all the attached documents very carefully. He also requested that you visit our offices tomorrow to finalize the transfer into your name. Everything is in order."
Sarah stared at the deeds, her mind reeling. Could it be Marcus? No, not even he would spend sixty million dollars on a gift. Her grandmother? Impossible. This was a mystery she couldn't solve.
"I... I need time to think about this," Sarah said.
"Of course, Mrs. Prescott. Take all the time you need. But please, do come by tomorrow if you can. The benefactor was very insistent that the transfer be completed soon."
After Amelia left, Sarah sat staring at the documents, completely bewildered.
---
Later that afternoon, Thorne's luxury sedan pulled up to the derelict warehouse. He stepped out, straightening his suit, and walked confidently toward the entrance where the four thugs were waiting.
"Well? Where is he?" Thorne demanded.
The leader, his arm now in a makeshift sling, nodded toward the center of the warehouse. A single body bag lay on the concrete floor.
Thorne strode over, cruel smile on his face. "Did you make him suffer like I asked? I hope he begged."
"Why don't you ask me yourself?" a voice said from inside the bag.
The zipper slid down, and Aaron sat up, brushing dust off his shirt. He looked perfectly unharmed.
Thorne stumbled backward, his face pure shock and terror. "What... what is this? How!?"
"I'm disappointed in you, Thorne," Aaron said, getting to his feet. "I truly am. I forgave your previous transgression at your office. I thought we had an understanding. I thought you were a businessman, not a common murderer."
"What is going on!?" Thorne shrieked, looking wildly at the thugs. "I paid you!"
"And I paid them more," Aaron said simply. "Significantly more."
Thorne's face contorted in desperate rage. "I'll pay you three million! Three million right now to kill him!"
Aaron chuckled softly. "Can you afford it, Thorne?"
"Of course I can afford it!" Thorne scoffed, though fear flickered in his eyes.
Aaron held out his phone. "Are you sure?"
On the screen was a financial news headline: TITAN CEO RICHARD THORNE IMPLICATED IN MASSIVE FRAUD, INSIDER TRADING SCANDAL. Below were details of his financial crimes and other offenses that spelled his complete ruin.
As Thorne stared in horror, his phone began to ring. He answered with shaking hands.
"Richard! The feds are here! They're raiding the offices! They have a warrant for everything!"
Thorne looked from the news article to Aaron, his empire crumbling before his eyes. The arrogance drained away, replaced by pathetic fear.
"Please," he begged, falling to his knees. "Please, spare me. I've lost everything. You've won. Just... just let me go. I'll disappear."
Aaron looked down at the pathetic man. He turned to the thugs. "Beat him. Don't kill him, but make sure a few bones are broken. Then deliver him to the nearest police station. They'll be expecting him."
The men grinned, cracking their knuckles. "With pleasure, boss."
Aaron turned and walked away, not looking back as Thorne's screams began to echo through the warehouse.
---
He arrived back at Vivian's house to find her making dinner while Amanda was watching television. The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air.
During dinner, Sarah, still looking bewildered, brought up Amelia's visit. "It's the strangest thing. Someone anonymously bought two mansions and put them in my name. I don't trust it. It has to be some kind of scam."
Aaron took a bite of his food, feigning mild interest. "Why don't you go to their offices tomorrow and check it out? What's the harm in confirming? Maybe you just got lucky."
"Lucky?" Sarah laughed. "Sixty million dollars worth of lucky? That doesn't happen."
"You never know," Vivian said. "Maybe you have a secret admirer with very deep pockets."
"Or maybe it's a mistake and they'll want the money back with interest," Amanda added sourly. "Nothing good ever comes free."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about," Sarah said. "But I suppose I should at least verify if it's legitimate."
"What's the worst that could happen?" Aaron asked. "If it's real, you've got two beautiful homes. If it's not, you're no worse off than you are now."
Sarah considered this. "I guess you're right. I'll go tomorrow morning."
"Good idea," Aaron said, returning to his meal.
Later, as Aaron was washing dishes, his phone buzzed. It was Natalie.
"Sir," she said, her voice crisp and professional. "I was just briefed on the incident this afternoon. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Natalie. The situation has been dealt with."
"Understood," she said. There was a pause. "The men who attacked you belong to a local syndicate known as the Red Vipers. Shall I make arrangements to have the entire organization... removed?"
Aaron froze, the plate slipping in his soapy hands. The casual way she offered to wipe out an entire criminal gang was chilling.
"No," he said quickly. "No, Natalie. That won't be necessary at all."
"Very well, sir. Is there anything else you need tonight?"
"Actually, yes. I need you to arrange something for me tomorrow. Sarah Prescott will be visiting the Winston Villa offices to finalize some paperwork. I want everything to go smoothly."
"Of course, sir. I'll make sure there are no complications."
"Thank you, Natalie."
"Always a pleasure, sir. Good night."
Aaron hung up and returned to the dishes, his mind already planning the next day. Sarah would finally learn about her new homes, and he would finally have a place of his own, away from Amanda's constant criticism and complaints.
From the living room, he could hear Amanda's voice rising in complaint about something on the news. Soon, very soon, he wouldn't have to listen to it anymore.
"Aaron!" Vivian called from the kitchen. "Can you help me with something?"
"Coming," he replied, drying his hands. Just one more night, he told himself. One more night of playing the role of the grateful houseguest. Tomorrow, everything would change.