Chapter 44: The Tracker and the Road

Ethan processed Jason’s frantic confession, the core of the story resonating perfectly with his long-held suspicions. The name Vincent Halbert now had weight—it wasn’t just the name of a local rich jerk’s father, but the actual murderer.

"I want to believe you, Jason," Ethan said, his voice measured. He stepped out of the shadows, revealing his new physique and the confidence that came with it. "Everything you’ve said aligns with what I already suspected. But it’s hard to know if this is the whole truth or just a half-truth to make me drop my guard."

He met the older man’s anxious eyes. "We’re going to go get that evidence you have. I need to see what it is, and then, maybe, I can trust you."

A visible wave of relief washed over Jason, and he stumbled slightly as he gave a grateful nod. "Thank you, Ethan. Thank you for giving me a chance."

"Let’s go to my car. Guide me there," Ethan instructed, starting to walk toward the parking lot.

Jason followed, but paused nervously as they approached Ethan’s sleek, expensive vehicle. "That’s a beautiful car, kid. I’ll ride in the trunk. I don’t want to dirty it up."

Ethan waved off the concern. "Don’t be an idiot. Get in. We’re going to be talking. Nothing’s going to happen to the car."

As Jason hesitantly climbed into the passenger seat, he directed Ethan. "It’s going to be tricky, though. The spot where I hid the things... it’s a construction zone now. Years ago, it was a normal neighborhood, but recently, some real estate company—I strongly believe they belong to Vincent—started building luxury homes there. It’s going to be hard to sneak in without being seen."

Ethan nodded, putting the car in gear. "It makes sense. He’s covering his tracks by covering the land. But we still need to go."

"Okay," Jason agreed, rubbing his hands together. "I’ll guide you."

The car slid silently out of the Captain’s Slice parking lot. Ethan drove slowly through the increasingly unfamiliar streets, prompting Jason to finally open up.

"Tell me, Jason," Ethan started, keeping his tone conversational but firm. "You’ve been on the run for two years, avoiding the Mafia boss who killed my dad. How did you survive on the streets?"

Jason looked out the window, his eyes distant. "It was hell, kid. Absolute hell. At first, I had some cash hidden, but they froze all my accounts. I became a ghost. Sleeping in parks, in abandoned buildings. Eating whatever I could find—dumpsters, charity kitchens. The worst part wasn’t the hunger or the cold; it was the paranoia. Every car that slowed down, every tall figure in a coat... I thought it was them."

He shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat. "I had to get good at hiding. I learned the routes of their security teams. That bastard Halbert put a serious bounty on my head. I think they tried to kill me at least ten times."

"Ten times?" Ethan murmured, his mind already calculating risk.

"Yeah. Once, they lured me to a storage unit pretending to be a potential buyer for some old things I was selling. Three guys with crowbars. I barely escaped through a ventilation shaft." Jason chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Another time, I was living under a bridge. They tried to run me over with a truck while I was sleeping. If I hadn’t developed that sixth sense for danger..." He shuddered. "I learned to live like an animal. But I had to watch Vincent. I needed to know when the coast was clear, or when he made a big move. I knew I had to wait until you were old enough, until he thought he was safe."

"You were waiting for me," Ethan repeated, half a statement, half a question.

"I was waiting for the only person who could fight him without being immediately tracked by his connections—you, the abandoned son," Jason corrected. "I knew your father gave you that number. I kept trying it, every few months, hoping you hadn’t thrown it away. I knew if I could just find you, we could bring that bastard down. Your dad and I... we were more than just partners. He deserved justice."

The honesty in Jason’s voice, the raw, lived-in fear, was convincing. The old man wasn’t a master manipulator; he was a terrified survivor seeking his last chance at redemption.

"Why me?" Ethan asked, his gaze fixed on Jason, boring into his weary face. "I get that you’re afraid of him, but why come to me? Why didn’t you go to the police?"

Jason sighed, the sound laced with years of defeat. "I did, Ethan. I tried. Vincent paid off half the city. I tried to file a complaint about your father’s murder, and the paperwork just... disappeared. Mysteriously. I didn’t even get a chance to stand before a judge before they were after me. I tried to file charges for attempted murder against them, and the same thing happened. That’s when I realized: I couldn’t do anything against him through the system."

"I understand that," Ethan conceded, his jaw tight. "But why me?"

Jason finally leaned back, the tension easing slightly as he prepared to disclose the true core of their predicament. "Your father was smart, Ethan. There’s a contract. He left a document detailing that if anything happened to him, you would inherit his full percentage of the company and the software. You would be able to go in and claim it."

Ethan stared at him, the logic dissolving into nonsense. "That makes even less sense! If that’s the case, why am I still alive? Why didn’t he just kill me the minute Dad died and take it all?"

Jason shook his head slowly. "Your father was very clever. He put in a special clause: If you died before claiming your share, his stock would be sold immediately, and the entire fortune would be donated to charity. It would all be lost to Vincent."

Jason tapped his chest nervously. "And when I realized what Halbert had done, I put my own share under the same conditions to try and balance the power. So, if something happens to you, Vincent loses not only your father’s part but mine too. You’re the key, Ethan. You’re the only thing stopping him from owning everything."