The city blurred past the tinted windows, Ashton's familiar grit giving way to Veridian Bluffs' manicured perfection. Jack pressed his forehead against the cool glass, his mother's face floating in his mind - not the pale, hospital version, but the way she looked on good days. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed at his terrible jokes. How she'd hum old songs while cooking dinner, even when the cupboards were almost bare.
She'd protected him his whole life. From poverty, from the truth about his heritage, from his father's secrets. Now it was his turn to protect her.
His fingers traced the scar above his eyebrow - the "sink repair incident" she'd always called it. Had that been part of his father's training too? Another calculated lesson wrapped in everyday life?
The car glided to a stop at a red light. In the reflection, Jack caught Elias studying him with those matching gray-blue eyes. He straightened, dropping his hand from the scar. Whatever games his father had played, whatever secrets his mother had kept - none of that mattered now. Only one thing did: making sure she survived.
"What do you want to know, son?" Elias asked, his voice cutting through Jack's thoughts.
Jack met those calculating gray-blue eyes that mirrored his own. "Tell me about my father. And why you abandoned us. If I'm accepting this deal to help Mom, I need to know everything."
Elias's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Your father was a complicated man. Former military, special operations. The kind of soldier whose missions never made it into any official records."
"That's not an answer." Jack's jaw tightened. "What does that have to do with you?"
"Everything." Elias pulled an antique pocket watch from his vest, checking the time with practiced precision. "But those details aren't relevant yet. What matters is understanding your place in all this."
"My place?" Jack's fist clenched. "My place was in Ashton, taking care of Mom while you ignored us for sixteen years."
"Is that what you think?" Elias's voice carried an edge of steel. "That I simply abandoned you both? The world isn't that simple, Jackson. Your father made choices. Your mother made choices. I made choices. And now you're making one."
The car turned onto a private drive lined with towering oaks. Jack caught glimpses of a massive stone mansion through the trees.
"You can't dangle my father's past in front of me like bait."
"Can't I?" Elias raised an eyebrow. "You broke into my building using tactics he taught you. Tactics disguised as games. Did you never wonder why a factory worker knew military-grade infiltration techniques?"
Jack's stomach twisted. He thought of all those childhood "games" - how to case a building, identify exits, read people's body language. How his father had made it all feel like fun, like their special secret.
"The truth will come," Elias said, "but like all things worth having, it must be earned. Your mother understood that once, before she chose differently." He straightened his already-perfect tie. "For now, focus on learning your new role. The rest will follow."
The car stopped at the mansion's entrance. Jack stared up at the imposing structure, his throat tight. "And if I decide I don't want to play by your rules?"
"Then you'll never know why your father really died." Elias opened his door. "Or why your mother still blames herself for it."
He stepped out, leaving Jack alone with questions burning in his chest and the sinking feeling that he'd just traded one set of lies for another.
Jack stepped out of the car, his worn sneakers crunching on perfectly raked gravel. The mansion loomed before him, a sprawling monument to wealth that stretched wider than his entire apartment complex. Stone walls climbed three stories high, punctuated by towering windows that caught the morning sun like sheets of fire. Ornate turrets and spires reached for the clouds, making him dizzy as he traced their path upward.
His legs felt wooden as he followed Elias up marble steps wide enough for ten people to walk side by side. Carved lions flanked the entrance, their stone eyes judging his threadbare jacket and discount store jeans. The massive oak doors stood taller than any he'd seen outside of museums, their brass handles gleaming like fresh-minted coins.
"This is just the main house," Elias said, gesturing to the expanse before them. "The grounds extend for several miles. There's the rose garden, the tennis courts, the stables-"
"Stables?" Jack's voice cracked. He'd never seen a horse outside of TV.
"Your mother used to ride. She was quite talented." Elias's words carried an edge of something - regret maybe, or bitterness. "The groundskeeper maintains twelve miles of riding trails through the estate."
Jack's mind struggled to process the scale. Twelve miles of private trails? The whole of Elmwood Projects could fit in this place's shadow. Beyond the manicured lawn, he spotted what looked like a separate building among the trees.
"Guest house," Elias explained, following his gaze. "One of three. The staff quarters are on the east side, near the garage complex."
Staff quarters. Garage complex. Each casual mention of another building hammered home how far he'd stepped from his world. In Ashton, people fought over street parking and shared laundry rooms. Here, they had multiple houses just for visitors.
The front doors swung open without a sound, revealing a foyer bigger than his entire apartment. A crystal chandelier cast rainbow prisms across marble floors polished to mirror shine. A grand staircase curved up both walls, its mahogany railings gleaming with generations of care.
Two rows of staff members lined the foyer, their postures military-straight. Jack counted at least twenty people - more than lived on his entire floor at Elmwood. Butlers in crisp black suits. Maids in pressed uniforms. A chef in spotless whites. Even a doctor in a lab coat. Their faces remained carefully neutral, but Jack felt the weight of their scrutiny.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Elias's voice filled the space with practiced authority. "This is Jackson Reeves, my grandson and heir to the Altiar Group. From this moment forward, you will afford him the same respect and attention you give to me."
Jack's spine stiffened at the collective intake of breath. A ripple passed through the assembled staff - subtle shifts in posture, flickering glances, minute adjustments of expression. He recognized the signs from years of reading people's tells at the pawn shop. They hadn't expected this.
"Dr. Chen." Elias beckoned to the woman in the lab coat. "Show Jackson to the medical wing. His mother has been transferred there and should be settling in."
Jack's head snapped toward his grandfather. "Mom's here already? When-"
"I had her moved this morning, while we were meeting." Elias straightened his watch chain. "The medical wing is fully equipped. Dr. Chen previously worked at Mayo Clinic. She'll oversee your mother's treatment personally."
The doctor stepped forward - early forties, kind eyes behind designer frames. "This way, Mr. Reeves."
"Jack," he corrected automatically. The title felt wrong, like someone else's clothes.
"Of course, sir." Her smile didn't waver. "If you'll follow me?"
As they turned toward the east wing, Jack caught fragments of whispered conversation behind them. The staff's perfect formation dissolved into clusters of murmured discussion. He didn't need to hear the words to know his arrival had just upended their carefully ordered world.
Dr. Chen led him down a hallway lined with oil paintings worth more than his entire life. Their footsteps echoed off marble floors and coffered ceilings. Each step carried him deeper into a reality he'd never imagined existing - one where private medical wings and personal doctors were normal, where his mother might finally get the care she deserved.
If all he had to do was play Elias's game to save her life, he'd learn the rules. He'd master them. And maybe then he'd discover what really happened to his father.