Chapter 20: Secret
"We’ll be in touch," said the man.
They walked to the stairs and left.
The building door opened and closed downstairs.
Makima let out a breath that she’d been holding since Sean came around the corner. She leaned against the hallway wall for a moment and closed her eyes.
"Were you actually recording?" she said.
"No," said Sean. "I just opened a random app."
Despite everything, she laughed. Short and involuntary. Then she stopped herself. Then she looked at him with an expression that was the most unguarded he’d seen from her.
"You’re going to be the strangest tenant I’ve ever had," she said quietly.
"Probably," said Sean.
"Sean," she said. More serious now. "Victor Hale is not a man you want to make an enemy of. He has connections. Real connections. City hall. Police. I don’t know exactly who. But I’ve heard things."
"I know," said Sean.
"Paying off Danny’s debt was incredibly generous. More than generous. But Victor isn’t going to stop because that leverage is gone. He wants this building. He’s been trying to get it for a year."
"I know," said Sean again.
"Then you know that there’s nothing to stop him from finding another way to apply pressure," said Makima. She looked at him carefully. "Unless..."
"Unless he has a reason not to," said Sean.
Makima said with shocked and concern. "What are you planning?"
"Something," said Sean. "Give me two weeks. Don’t sell. Don’t engage with his people anymore. If they show up again, call me."
"Sean, you’re eighteen years old, you are still young , you shouldn’t do anything that would put you in danger because of me"
"I know how old I am, and i am doing it because i want to" said Sean. "Two weeks, Makima. That’s all I’m asking."
She looked at him for a long moment. He could see the calculations running behind her eyes. The same ones she’d been running since he first sat down in her office yesterday. Trying to understand what she was dealing with. Who this young man was who had appeared in her building with designer suits and foreign cars and the kind of quiet certainty that didn’t belong on an eighteen-year-old face.
"Two weeks," she said finally.
"Thank you," said Sean.
He went back upstairs.
He sat at his desk and stared at his phone for a moment.
Victor had moved faster than expected. Which meant he was either panicking about the debt being paid off or he had information about Sean’s involvement already.
Either way, the timeline had gotten tighter.
He sent Max a message: He’s moving faster than expected. I need something usable at the one week mark minimum. Not just direction. Actual material.
Max’s response came back in under two minutes: Already deep in. Found the first layer yesterday. You won’t like what’s under it.
Sean read that twice.
Send me what you have so far, he typed back.
Not yet, said Max. I need to verify it before I send it. Otherwise you act on incomplete information and burn the whole thing. Give me four more days.
Sean looked at the message. Then he put his phone down.
Four days.
He could work with four days.
======
The next four days were busy.
Sean didn’t sit still.
On the first day he used his Business Insight skill to make three targeted investments in companies he remembered from his future life. A tech startup that was currently undervalued that he knew would receive a major acquisition offer in three months. A pharmaceutical company that was about to announce a treatment approval. A logistics firm that was on the verge of a major government contract.
Combined initial investment: $400,000.
[400,000 dollars spent]
[Balance: $683,480]
[800,000 dollars received]
[New Balance: $1,483,480]
His phone buzzed.
[Business Insight Skill: Investment Initiated]
[Projected Return Timeline: 60-90 days]
[Estimated Return: 4x-6x initial investment]
He put his phone in his pocket. He wasn’t looking for the returns today. He was building the foundation.
On the second day he called Vanessa Chen.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Mr. Miller," she said. Her voice had that professional warmth in it. "I was wondering when you’d call."
"Vanessa," said Sean. "I need some advice."
"What kind of advice?"
"The kind you give someone who is about to need a very significant wardrobe expansion and wants to make sure they look right for every occasion."
A beat. Then: "That’s not really advice. That’s styling."
"Can you do it?" said Sean.
"I can absolutely do it," said Vanessa. "When are you thinking?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," said Sean. "I’ll come to the store."
"I’ll clear my schedule," said Vanessa. "See you then, Mr. Miller."
Sean hung up. He didn’t actually need the clothes urgently. But the VIP spending would feed back into the system and Vanessa’s favorability would move in a direction that was useful. And he genuinely needed to look right for what was coming.
On the third day he visited Eastgate Medical Center.
He spoke to the billing administrator for forty minutes. By the end of it, Amara’s account had a full payment authorization for her surgical procedure, recovery, and post-surgical care. The total came to one hundred and twelve thousand dollars.
He paid it.
[112,000 dollars sent]
[Balance: $1,371,480]
[224,000 dollars received]
[New Balance: $1,595,480]
-------
On the fourth day Max called him.
Not a message. An actual call. Sean picked up.
"I need to show you this in person," said Max. His voice was different from the library. Flatter. More serious. "Can you meet me tonight?"
"Where?" said Sean.
"My place. I’ll send the address. Come alone."
Max’s apartment was in a quiet building fifteen minutes from campus. Small. Clean in the way a person’s space gets clean when they can’t afford clutter and haven’t slept enough to maintain disorder.
Sean arrived at eight in the evening. Max opened the door immediately like he’d been watching for the car.
