“Our whole family depends on that demolition money to survive!”

His shoulders shook with every sob.

“Sir, I don't know what I did to offend you.”

“If something I said before rubbed you the wrong way, I'll get on my knees and beg your forgiveness.”

“Just don't hold up my family's money.”

“This old life of mine really does depend on that payout.”

And then he actually did it. He slammed his forehead against the floor.

The linoleum thudded with each hit.

Philippa started crying too, clutching her belly as she bent down to pull him up.

“Dad, stop, your body can't take this.”

Ronald's eyes were bloodshot. He jabbed a finger at me and shouted：

“You happy now?”

“My dad's already like this. What more do you want?”

The hallway crowd started murmuring.

“Lord, liver cancer? That's a death sentence.”

“If the demolition money gets held up, where's he supposed to get money for treatment?”

“Can't you people just talk it out? The man's on his knees.”

“Old Whitney's always been a bit of a mooch, sure, but you don't have to push a man to his grave.”

The voices started low.

Then they got louder.

A woman with a tight perm elbowed her way to the doorway and spoke directly at me.

“Sir, let me say something fair here.”

“Old Whitney runs his mouth, sure, but the man has cancer now. Can't you just let him sign the papers first? We're talking about a human life.”

An older man in a floral shirt nodded along.

“That's right. You government folks still need to show some compassion.”

“His daughter-in-law's pregnant. If the old man can't get treatment and dies, that baby's born without a grandfather. How sad is that?”

“You can't be that heartless.”

Geoffrey was still on his knees.

Tears streaked his entire face.

He looked truly pitiful.

If I weren't Peter James.

If I weren't the child who'd stood outside that fire thirty years ago, watching them carry my mother out.

I probably would have felt sorry for him too.

Geoffrey saw my silence and cried harder.

He shuffled forward on his knees, reaching for the cuff of my pants.

“Sir, I'm on my knees. Isn't that enough?”

“I know you people look down on guys like me who run card parlors. Think we're uneducated. No class.”

“But I'm still a person.”

“I still want to live.”

He tilted his face up at me, tears running down every crease and fold.

“You can't cut off my only chance of survival over some incomplete paperwork.”

A few people in the hallway wiped their eyes.

“Sir, you're so young. How is your heart this cold?”

“Didn't your parents teach you any decency?”

My fingers went still.

Parents.

She actually brought up my parents.

Geoffrey had his head bowed. The corner of his mouth twitched, just once.

Quick.

No one else saw it.

But I did.

He was smiling.

I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, the fire inside me had gone quiet.

I looked at Geoffrey.

“Liver cancer?”

“Submit your medical records, diagnosis report, and all treatment receipts.”

Something lit up behind Geoffrey's eyes.

“Sir, then our compensation……”

I looked at that calculating face and gave a thin smile.

“If the diagnosis checks out, I can process a hardship-aid application for temporary relief.”

“But the demolition compensation review continues.”

Before long, hurried footsteps echoed up the stairwell.

The entire leadership team from the Greenfield urban renewal project had arrived.

Director Lambert was at the front.

The second he stepped through the door and saw Geoffrey on his knees, his expression darkened.

“Peter, what the hell is going on here?”

I pushed the file across the table.

“I can't approve the Whitney claim. The commercial status of his unit is questionable, and the fire thirty years ago was never properly investigated.”

Director Lambert didn't even glance at the file.

He stared straight at me.

“Do you have any idea what's happening online right now?”

“Ronald's wife is a local influencer. Hundreds of thousands of followers. She livestreamed the whole thing.”

“It's already trending.”

“'Demolition official forces elderly cancer patient to his knees.'”

“'Pregnant woman begs for family's lifeline compensation.'”

“The entire internet is tearing us apart!”

He turned to the finance officer.

“The Whitney claim. Original terms. Expedite it.”

The finance officer froze for a second, then nodded.

When the red seal stamped down, something detonated inside my skull.

Minutes later, Ronald's phone buzzed.

He looked down, then shouted：

“It's here! Dad! The money's in!”

“$486,000, every last cent!”

Everyone in the conference room exhaled.

Geoffrey was still on his knees.

He lifted his head slowly and looked at me.

Then he braced himself against the table and stood.

The man who'd been gasping for his last breath a minute ago now had a straight back and steady legs.

He bowed to Director Lambert first.

“Thank you, sir. I knew the people in charge would be reasonable.”

Then Geoffrey walked over to me.

The tears on his face hadn't dried, but his eyes were completely different.

He leaned close to my ear and laughed, low and quiet.

“I thought you looked familiar. You're the James family brat.”

Every muscle in my body locked.

He recognized me.

“Thirty years, and you're still hung up on your mommy's little accident?”

“Pathetic woman. Burned head to toe and still wouldn't die. Had to throw herself off the building instead. The sound she made when she hit the ground.”

“Splat.”

“I can still hear it.”

My fingers clenched so hard the knuckles cracked.

Geoffrey saw. It made him happier.

“Want revenge?”

“Too bad.”

He patted his pocket.

“Money's in the account.”

“Four hundred eighty-six thousand. Every cent.”

“Your dad's been rotting in that bed for thirty years. Your mom's ashes have been cold for just as long. You waited all this time, and all you get to do is watch me cash out.”

“Your mother deserved to die.”

“If she were alive to see me collect this check, she'd probably jump again.”

Geoffrey stared into my eyes, his face folding into deep creases as he grinned.

He brushed past me and tossed out one last line：

“Think you can touch me?”

“Maybe next life.”