Chapter 6 - The Desperate Move
Three weeks later.
David’s apartment was filled with cardboard boxes.
The bank had foreclosed on his luxury penthouse after he missed two mortgage payments, and his Porsche had been repossessed from the parking garage on Tuesday. He now lived in a small, damp two-bedroom apartment on the far edge of town—a place that smelled faintly of old carpet and engine exhaust.
He sat on a cheap plastic chair, scrolling through social media on his cracked phone screen, his heart twisting with jealousy and bitterness.
A news headline popped up on his feed:
“EMILY CRUZ NAMED CHIEF CREATIVE OFFICER OF STERLING GLOBAL ARCHITECTURE IN HISTORIC APPOINTMENT.”
Below the headline was a photo of Emily standing alongside Julian Sterling at a black-tie press conference, looking radiant, powerful, and stunningly rich.
"It's not fair," David muttered to himself, his fingers squeezing the phone until his knuckles turned white. "It's not fair! I was the one who went to college! I was the one who had the business degree! She was just a waitress!"
In his twisted, broken mind, David convinced himself of a dangerous lie: Emily hadn't succeeded on her own merit. She had used his name, his past connection, and his reputation to build her empire. He believed that if he could just get to the children—if he could establish a legal right to see Mason, Leo, and Ava—he could force Emily to grant him a seat on her company's board, or at least settle his mounting debts in exchange for custody peace.
He pulled up his contacts, searching for a number he hadn't called in four years: his mother’s former neighbor, who now worked as a part-time receptionist at the elite private preschool where Emily’s triplets were enrolled.
He dialed the number.
"Hello? Brenda?" David put on his most charming, professional voice. "Hi, it's David... David Miller. Yes, it's been a while! Listen, I'm trying to plan a surprise for Emily and the kids today..."
Ten minutes later, David hung up the phone with a dark, satisfied smile.
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He had the exact address of the private preschool, the schedule for their afternoon playground hour, and the security protocol for pickup.
He stood up, put on his faded jacket, and grabbed his car keys.
