Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the City
The address on the wire transfer led Arthur not to a financial firm, but to a crumbling brick apartment complex on the industrial outskirts of the city. The rain was lashing against his windshield, blurring the neon signs of cheap diners and pawn shops.
He didn't belong here, and yet, his money did.
He waited in his car for two hours. Just as he was about to give up, he saw her. Elena stepped out of a black sedan, looking nothing like the regal matriarch who graced the Sunday galas. She was dressed in muted tones, her hair pulled back harshly. She looked vibrant—not with the coldness he knew, but with a strange, frantic energy.
She walked to the building, greeting a young man who emerged from the front door. He couldn't have been more than twenty. They hugged—a warm, maternal embrace that Arthur had never once received in his adult life.
Arthur felt a sickening pit in his stomach. He stepped out of the car, his leather shoes splashing into a puddle, the sound sharp in the quiet night.
"Mother!"
Elena froze. The young man turned, confused, but Elena’s face hardened instantly, the mask snapping back into place.
"Arthur," she said, her voice devoid of its usual tremor. She didn't look guilty. She looked annoyed. "You shouldn't be here. This is... none of your concern."
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"This is my money, Mother! This is my life! Who is he?" Arthur pointed to the young man, whose face now shifted into a look of recognition, though not of him.
"He is your brother," Elena said, her voice flat. "And you are the piggy bank that finally paid for his education, his health, and his future—things you were too busy to provide for him while you were playing businessman."
