Page 30 of Ruin My Life
I’m in and out in ten minutes.
No trace. No alarms. No footprints.
It’s almost disappointing.
His network isn’t terrible—but it’s not the Fort Knox I expected. Not CIA-level. Not even NSA-adjacent.
Maybe he’s arrogant. Maybe he thinks no one would dare.
Just another powerful man who underestimates the cracks in his fortress.
But now… I have everything.
Passwords. Financial records. Business documents. Private correspondence. If I wanted to know what he ate for dinner last night, it would take me two clicks.
And somehow, this still doesn’t feel like a win.
I skim through the files as I sort them into a new folder, deciding what’s worth keeping—and what’s useful enough to send to my mystery employer.
They saideverything, but no one wants to scroll through thirty tabs of browser history or dig through someone’s Netflix watchlist.
They want leverage. Ammunition. Something they canuse.
Damon King has several bank accounts. Two underThe King’s Eye, both with steady activity. One generic personal account.
And a fourth—one that only makes outgoing payments once a month.
That one catches my eye.
Most of the expenses are routine and automated. Mortgage payments, grocery deliveries, a recurring charge to a tiny medical centre in New Shoreham, Rhode Island.
Interesting.
Why does a man with a penthouse in downtown Brooklyn also own an oceanfront house in Rhode Island? And why is he paying medical bills in another state?
Curious, I dig deeper.
The property sits on the southern edge of Block Island.
Large. Secluded. Coastal.
He bought it two and a half years ago—right around the time he disappeared from the grid.
The mortgage is set to autopay. Out of sight, out of mind. But it’s not a vacation home. Not with grocery bills and medical payments.
Someone lives there.
And whoever they are… they’re important.
Important enough for him to keep hidden.
Far from the city. Far from his empire.
It takes almost no effort to pull up his mortgage contract. From there, I have his loan number, remaining balance, next payment, and full legal address.
And just like that, I’m holding a secret he never meant anyone to find.
But the second I read the house number and street name, something settles heavily in my stomach, like wet cement.
