BUSINESS PARTNERS

The clock on the bedside table ticked toward midnight, a steady, rhythmic pulse in the dark room. Beside Matt, Claire slept soundly, her breathing soft and even. But sleep was a ghost Matt couldn’t catch. His mind was a battlefield, echoing with the desperate pitch Henry had made in the shadows of the factory.

“We can be rich, Matt,” Henry’s voice whispered in his memory. “Your wife could be cured. Think about the cancer, Matt. The bills.”

Matt groaned and rolled onto his side, staring at the wall.

“All the money I owe you? It’ll be gone. If we’re partners, you’ll be rich. Properly rich.”

Matt shut his eyes tight, but the memories didn't stop. They drifted back to earlier that day, when he had gone to pick up his mother, Jane, to take her to visit Claire in the hospital. The conversation in her cramped living room had been anything but a comfort.

“What do you want me to do?” Matt had snapped, his frustration finally boiling over. “Steal? Start trafficking drugs?”

Jane hadn't flinched. If anything, her expression had hardened into a mask of bitter disappointment. “Yeah, Matt. I don’t care what you do. Your peers are out there buying estates for their mothers, and look at me—I’m still renting a damn apartment.”

“Oh, really?” Matt had scoffed, hurt by the coldness in her voice.

Jane had stepped toward him, her finger jabbed at his chest. “Stop cooking drugs for killing insects and start cooking money, Matt!”

The memory of her anger burned in his gut. Now, lying in the dark, the desperation of his mother and the impending death sentence of his wife merged into a single, frantic heartbeat. Slowly, Matt reached for his phone on the nightstand. The blue light blinded him for a second as he typed out a short, decisive text to Henry.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, but the other side of the bed was cold. Claire sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and called out Matt’s name. Silence followed. She reached for her phone and dialed his number, but it went straight to a recorded message: unavailable.

A knot of worry tightened in her chest, but she shook it off. He was probably just out early, trying to clear his head. She headed to the bathroom to shower, then made her way to the kitchen, the smell of batter and coffee soon filling the air as she started on breakfast.

At that same moment, Matt was sitting in the passenger seat of Henry’s car. The air inside the vehicle was stale, smelling of nervous sweat and old upholstery. Henry looked like he hadn't slept a wink.

“Well, the deal is off, Matt,” Henry snapped, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

Matt stared at him in genuine shock. “What? That can’t be true.”

“You could have accepted it yesterday!” Henry shouted, his voice cracking with exhaustion. “But you didn't. You let me sleep in this car with fifty kilos of coke in the back? Do you have any idea what kind of target that puts on my head?”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Matt fired back. “I’m only doing this for Claire! If it wasn't for her, I would have reported you the second I saw that bag.”

Henry let out a jagged, angry laugh. “Do it, then, bitch. Report me. We’ll both be doomed then, won't we?”

Matt slumped back against the seat, his anger cooling into a grim resolve. He looked at Henry, his voice dropping to a low, steady tone. “Please, Henry. Let’s do this. You know the streets, and I know the chemistry. I know the cooking.”

Henry paused, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Cooking? What are you talking about? What are you cooking?”

A dark smirk played on Matt’s lips. “I’m giving the cocaine world a delicious new recipe.”

Henry stared at him for a long beat, seeing a spark of something dangerous in Matt’s eyes that hadn't been there before. Slowly, he reached out and shook Matt’s hand. The pact was sealed.

Back at the house, Claire sat at the dining table, staring at the plate of pancakes and waffles she had prepared. They were growing cold. She was lost in thought, wondering where Matt could be, when she heard the front door creak open.

She jumped up as Matt walked in. “Matt! What happened? I made breakfast, I took a shower, and you still hadn't shown up. I was so worried.”

Matt walked over to her, a soft, reassuring smile on his face. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, then gently cupped her jaw. “I’m sorry, honey. I went to talk to my boss, Alan. I was asking about the insurance, and he actually decided to help us out. That’s why I was gone—I had to go sign some emergency documents.”

Claire’s face transformed, a wide, luminous smile breaking through her worry. “I told you, Matt! I told you we’d be alright!”

She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Matt held her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head, but his eyes were hollow. He stared over her shoulder at nothing, the weight of the lie settling like lead in his soul.

Later that afternoon, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Bianca was walking toward her car, her mind still reeling from the previous night, when a shadow blocked her path. It was Henry. This time, he was alone, but that only made him seem more unpredictable.

Bianca froze, her breath hitching.

“I need something from you,” Henry said, stepping closer. His voice was uncharacteristically calm, which terrified her more than the shouting. “And if you do this for me, I might consider letting you go forever.”

Bianca nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear. “Anything. What is it?”

Henry leaned in, his eyes locking onto hers. “Your dad is the manager of the van company, right?”

Bianca’s heart skipped a beat. The world suddenly felt very cold.

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