Page 1 of Redemption
Gabriel
Asticky note clung to the glass frame protecting my fake master's degree.
“I didn't know a 28-year-old heir to a criminal throne could have a midlife crisis. Anyway, here it is. Now we're even.”-Damien
I couldn’t help but smile. My brother Damien hated owing people anything. We weren’t even, not that it mattered now.
The fluorescent lights in my poorly decorated office flickered. Clearly, the previous boss had no sense of feng shui, but that was a problem money could fix. My sisters tried to convince me that unless I left with nothing but the clothes on my back, this new life wouldn't be "authentic." They just wanted me to come crawling back after a few weeks of suffering.
Nothing in this world could drag me back to New York. The family couldn’t understand that.
Especially not my father. The senile bastard.
I peeled the note off the frame and hung the forgery on the wall, turning away from my partial reflection. My office was shit, and I needed coffee. I had a couple of hours to kill before meeting my subordinates.
Leaving the marine biology center, I headed to the café down the street. The coastal air was a far cry from the stench of New York—fresh, clean, and quiet. I didn't see or hear anyone during the short walk. Another reason I liked this place.
The door chimed as I entered, and a half-asleep worker perked up. She was cute, but I had other things to do this morning.
“Welcome to Cabana Cup,” she said softly, with just the right amount of forced enthusiasm.
“Thanks,” I replied.
Her eyes widened as she looked up at me.
“I’ll just have a black coffee.”
“That’ll be $3,” she said, tearing her eyes away to prepare my drink.
I slid my card into the chip reader and looked around the café. It seemed like the perfect spot to gather my thoughts.
“Sir?”
I turned back to her.
“Yes?”
“It says your card was declined.”
I stared at her incredulously. “Trust me, that’s impossible.”
I slid my card back into the reader, holding it in place while the screen took its sweet time to saydeclinedagain. I glanced from the cold metal card in my hand to her name-tag curving over her chest, then to her nervous green eyes.
“Sophia, this is a mistake.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, this one’s on the house.”
She clearly didn’t want a confrontation at 4 a.m. over three dollars. I got it, but something was wrong.
“Just give me a second. It must be because I’m out of state.”
I pulled out my phone to log into my bank account.
“Oh, where are you from? Are you a tourist?” She asked.
I looked up with a warm smile and then back at my phone as I typed in my password.
“I’m from New York, but this is home now. I took a job at?—”
