Six years ago, a corporate acquisition deal I handled went up in flames, and 50 billion dollars vanished into thin air.

Bankrupt investors spray red paint all over my front door for a year straight. Dad died from a stroke, and Mom lost her mind and disappeared.

I ended up doing six years in prison for embezzlement. After I got out, I changed my name and started delivering food in downtown, running myself ragged for a few bucks per delivery.

But then my ex-wife, Shirley Pearce, showed up, and the entire delivery station ground to a halt.

She had become a financial powerhouse, a regular on the covers of business magazines.

Reporters blocked my delivery scooter, shoving microphones in my face. "Mr. Marcus Quinn, Ms. Pearce has been single for six years, paid off all your debts, and she's been waiting for you to come home!"

I stared at that perfectly made-up woman with her adoring eyes and felt nothing but disgust.

That so-called "devoted" ex-wife of mine? Six years ago, she had forged company seals to help her boy toy short the stock market. Then, when everything fell apart, she threw me under the bus to save herself.

The reporters packed the place so tightly that I could barely breathe, and plenty of my fellow delivery riders had stopped to watch the spectacle.

"What a nice car! With that kind of car, which billionaire heiress showed up here?"

Following their stares, I saw Shirley Pearce standing not far away, staring at me with those longing eyes. She looked as polished as ever, her makeup perfect without a single flaw.

As I looked at her, my mind went blank for just a moment.

Memories flashed through my head like a movie as I recalled her testimony in court, the red paint from bankrupt investors, and Dad's eyes still open when he died.

Nonetheless, it was only a moment.

For the person I had become, that 50-billion-dollar mess from years ago felt less real than the five bucks I would lose if the delivery ran late.

My expression stayed flat as I looked away, twisted the throttle on my scooter, and spoke coolly to Shirley. "Move it. I'm on the clock."

The reporters went crazy, shoving microphones in my face.

Someone even grabbed my handlebars and shouted, "Mr. Quinn! Ms. Pearce waited six whole years for you. Isn't your reaction a bit cold? Are you rushing off because you feel guilty facing the ex-wife who paid off all your debts?"

"Enough!"

Shirley stepped forward, her eyes turning teary as she looked at me with that devoted expression, her voice trembling. "Marcus, I came to take you home."

My knuckles turned white gripping the handlebars, veins bulging on the back of my hand.

The other delivery drivers around us had all stopped working, whispering amongst themselves, their eyes full of envy and jealousy.

"Marcus is always so quiet, but his ex-wife is actually that loaded."

"She's not just an ex-wife, she's a living saint! I heard she paid off all of the debt for him."

"Marcus is about to have it made. Living off a woman is still a skill."

I did not move. I merely looked down at my worn-out sneakers with the soles coming apart.

"Excuse me, I've got deliveries to make," I said, my voice coming out hoarse.

The veins on the back of my hand bulged as I gripped the handlebars. There was no way Shirley missed me. She probably just wanted to see if I was dead yet.

Back in court, when she sobbed and testified that I embezzled company funds to support a boy toy, she had worn that same expression.

I took a deep breath and looked up at her. "Ms. Pearce, you're doing too much. Keep it up, and you'll blow your cover."

Shirley's face stiffened, but she quickly recovered that pitiful look. "I know you hate me, but back then, I had no choice..."

A sharp sound cut off her performance. My helmet had fallen off the scooter and rolled to her feet.

Shirley instinctively stepped back half a step, her face scrunching up in disgust. Despite that, she immediately crouched down to pick up the helmet for me.

"Look at you, still so careless," she said as she held that scratched-up helmet like it was some priceless treasure.

The reporters went wild capturing the moment.

I watched her coldly, feeling nothing but contempt.

Suddenly, a flashy red car roared up to the curb, its engine revving loud enough to drown out the crowd.

The door swung open, and a man in a white casual suit stepped out. His hair was slicked back perfectly, and he wore that mild, polished smile that seemed like it was begging to be punched.

It was Liam Stone. He was the pretty boy who had taken the acquisition plan I put my blood, sweat and tears into, sold it to a competitor, and then teamed up with Shirley to short the company.

He had reinvented himself as a so-called young business prodigy.

He walked over quickly, slipped an arm around Shirley's waist like it was the most natural thing in the world, and kissed her on the cheek.

He said, "Shirley, what are you doing here? This place is filthy. You're going to get your heels dirty."

Only then did he seem to notice me, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.

"Well, well, if it isn't the great Marcus Quinn. How'd you end up looking like this? Delivering food? I guess it suits you... Back at the company, all you ever did was run errands anyway."

He laughed without restraint, and the reporters around us joined in with quiet chuckles.

I ignored him and swung my leg over the scooter to leave.

However, Liam was not about to let me go. He stepped forward, blocking the front of my scooter.

"Don't rush off, Marcus. Today's a special day, and Shirley and I prepared a big gift just for you."

After saying that, he clapped his hands.

The car's back door opened, and two bodyguards helped a disheveled old woman out. She wore an ill-fitting hospital gown, her hair was gray and tangled, and her eyes were clouded over.

She was mumbling something incoherent.

It was my mother who had been missing for six years.

I threw down the scooter and rushed over, wanting to hold her.

"Mom!" I called out, tears nearly spilling over.

However, before I could touch her, the old woman suddenly screamed and lunged at me like a madwoman.

"Murderer! You're a murderer! You killed your father! You destroyed this whole family! Why are you still alive? You should've just died!"

Her bony fingers clawed viciously at my face, and her nails tore through my skin with a burning sting.

I did not dare to move, letting her hit and curse me, but on the inside, it felt like someone had stabbed me and poured salt in the wound.

Liam stood to the side with his arm around Shirley, smiling triumphantly.

"Marcus, we had such a hard time finding Mrs. Quinn. The doctor said she suffered trauma and only remembers that you killed your father. Look, even your own mother wants you dead. How much of a failure can one person be?"

The camera flashes around us went even crazier.

Through my fingers, I stared at that pair of scumbags. The murderous intent in my eyes was getting impossible to suppress.

Shirley pulled a card from her purse and held it out to me. "Marcus, Mrs. Quinn is emotionally unstable right now and needs the best treatment. There's five million dollars on this card, and the code is your birthday. Take it. Don't let your pathetic pride make her suffer."

Her tone was gentle, like she was throwing scraps to a stray dog.

Mom was still struggling in my arms, cursing me with the most vicious words. "You animal! You ungrateful bastard! I should kill you to avenge your father!"

Every word felt like a whip against my heart.

I let go, letting the bodyguards pull her away. As they dragged her off, she was still spitting at me.

I wiped the blood from my face and rejected the card. "Take your money and get lost."

Shirley's hand froze in midair, her expression faltering.

Liam sneered, snatched the card, and threw it on the ground, grinding it under his shoe.

"You ungrateful piece of trash. Shirley, since he doesn't know what's good for him, let's go. Anyway, we've got Mrs. Quinn. He'll come begging us eventually."

He leaned close to my ear and whispered so only I could hear.

"Marcus, I know exactly what you're capable of. The company has a new project coming up, and you're familiar with the acquisition materials.

"Be a good little ghostwriter for me, and maybe I'll throw you some scraps and take good care of your mother. Otherwise, you can start planning her funeral."

Liam put his arm around Shirley and got into the car, surrounded by their bodyguards.

The car's roar faded into the distance, leaving behind a cloud of exhaust.

The reporters, seeing that the show was over, scattered one by one, pointing and whispering about me as they left.

Then, the station manager came over with a furious expression and kicked my scooter over.

"Marcus, are you out of your damn mind? Ms. Pearce offers you money, yet you refuse it, acting all high and mighty? Get lost!

"Don't bother coming back here! Just looking at you ruins my mood! Forget about this week's pay. Consider it compensation for my mental distress!"

He cursed his way back inside and slammed the door hard enough to shake the walls.

I picked up my scooter and looked at the empty street. Before long, it started to rain. Cold raindrops hit my face, mixing with the blood from my wounds, stinging sharply.

Suddenly, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number.

When I answered, I heard my landlady, Margaret Reed, speaking through tears.

"Marcus, y-you need to come back and move out right away. A group of people just came by. They claimed they were doing a fire inspection and said my house violated rental regulations.

"They want to issue me a huge fine unless I kick you out... I know you're a good person, Marcus, but I have no choice... My grandson is still in school..."

My grip tightened on the phone. "I understand. I'll come over and move out right now."

With that, I hung up and rode my scooter into the rain.

When I got back to that hundred-square-foot basement, Margaret was standing at the door wiping away her tears.

My belongings had already been thrown out. All that I had were a few old shirts, a worn blanket, and a crushed picture frame.

It was the only photo of my parents and I from six years ago.

I silently crouched down and stuffed everything into a canvas bag.

Margaret pressed 200 dollars into my hand and said, "Marcus, take this money and buy yourself some food. T-Those people are dangerous, and you need to be careful from now on."

I pushed the money back. "Thank you, but I can't take it."

I slung the canvas bag over my shoulder, picked up the broken frame, and walked into the rainy night.

The rain was coming down harder, and I had nowhere to go. The space under the bridge was already packed with homeless people.

Later, I found a bus shelter with some cover and huddled in the corner. My clothes were soaked through, and I was shivering from the cold.

Just then, my phone rang again. It was Shirley.

"Marcus, not feeling so great, are you? That basement of yours wasn't exactly comfortable anyway. Since you're out, why don't you come to the Oceanview Villa?

"Mrs. Quinn keeps crying out for your father, and the doctor says only you can calm her down. Liam's project is a bit tricky, and you're the expert, so help him out. As long as you cooperate, I promise Mrs. Quinn will get the best care. Otherwise..."

A piercing scream came through the phone, and I immediately recognized that it was my mother's voice.

It was the sound she made when they injected the sedative.

I ground my back teeth together and hissed, "Deal."

Shirley laughed, her tone dripping with contempt. "Now, that's more like it! You could've saved yourself some trouble if you'd done this earlier. We're at the Oceanview Villa. I'll be waiting for you at home."

The Oceanview Villa was the house I had planned to buy years ago as an anniversary gift for Shirley.

When I arrived, Shirley was sitting on the living room couch, drinking red wine. Liam sat next to her with his legs crossed, holding a stack of papers.

Seeing me walk in, soaking wet, Liam whistled.

"Well, well, look who's here. Why didn't you take off your shoes? That's an expensive rug. Can you even afford to replace it if you get it dirty?"

I ignored him, my eyes fixed on the second floor. "Where's my mom?"

Shirley set down her wine glass and pointed upstairs. "She's asleep in the guest room. The doctor just gave her a shot. Marcus, sign this contract first."

She tossed a document onto the coffee table.

It was an employment agreement between Liam and I.