Ephram sat on the metal bench outside the hospital morgue. The hallway was empty. The vending machine at the far end hummed, a lonely, mechanical sound. He was holding his grandmother's necklace, a cheap silver chain with a small locket. It was the only thing she had left.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out. A message from a sender labeled simply: 'The Unit'.
He slid his thumb across the cracked screen. Images loaded. High-definition photos taken with a telephoto lens.
Erlene and Andrew walking into the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton.
Erlene and Andrew in the glass elevator.
Erlene's hand on Andrew's lower back.
Andrew kissing her neck.
Ephram stared at the photos. He didn't feel jealousy. He didn't feel sadness. He felt a cold precision settling in his brain.
A second message appeared.
Target acquired. Authorization to engage?
Ephram typed back.
Hold. Let them enjoy the night.
He wouldn't let their filth touch the night his grandmother died. They could have tonight. Tomorrow was a different world.
The phone vibrated again. This time, it was a call. No Caller ID.
Ephram stared at it for three seconds. Only three people had this number. He answered it but didn't speak.
"I heard the old woman passed," a voice said. It was deep, gravelly, and commanded instant attention. Arlie George. His father.
"Your intel is fast," Ephram said. His voice was devoid of emotion. "Even for a man who hasn't visited her in ten years."
"She's gone," Arlie said, ignoring the jab. "Which means the last excuse for you living this pathetic life under your mother's name is gone too."
Ephram stood up and walked to the window. He looked out at the city skyline. "What do you want?"
"The family trust freeze ends next week," Arlie said. "Your uncles are circling like sharks. I need you back. Not as the Uber driver. Not as the failure. I need the heir."
Ephram saw his reflection in the dark glass. He looked tired. He looked weak.
"And if I refuse?"
Arlie chuckled. It was a dry, rasping sound. "Then the file on your mother's investigation... I'll burn it. Personally."
Ephram's hand tightened around the phone. The plastic creaked. His mother. The unsolved fire. The reason he had stayed in this city, in the shadows.
"You're threatening me?"
"I'm negotiating, son," Arlie said. "Equivalent exchange."
Ephram looked at the distant lights of the Ritz-Carlton. He could almost see the room where his wife was sleeping with another man.
"I'll come back to the estate," Ephram said. The ice in his voice matched his father's. "But first, I have to take out the trash."
"Do as you please," Arlie said. "Just don't make it too messy. The police chief is new."
The line clicked dead.
Ephram took off his thick black glasses. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He cleaned the lenses on his shirt and put them back on. The grief was packed away in a box in the back of his mind. Now, there was only the mission.
