The rumors got worse over the weekend.

  Leon heard them in fragments—at the grocery store, on the bus, scrolling through social media he rarely checked. Jake Morrison and his two friends. Gone. No leads. The police had apparently conducted a brief investigation and then... stopped.

  "My cousin works at the station," someone posted in the school group chat. "She said they got a call from higher up. Told them to drop it completely."

  "That's messed up."

  "Higher up from where?"

  "She wouldn't say. But she looked scared when I asked."

  Leon sat on his bed Saturday night, phone in hand, reading through the messages. His ribs still ached. The bruise on his face had turned a nasty yellow-purple.

  Wednesday night, he'd been beaten up. Thursday morning, Jake and his friends were gone.

  The timing was... coincidental. That's all it was.

  For a moment—just a brief, stupid moment—Leon thought about Iris. She had resources. Connections. The kind of power that could make people disappear if she wanted.

  But no. That was insane. She didn't even know what had happened. He hadn't told her, hadn't contacted her at all. And even if she somehow found out, why would she care? She'd made it clear their marriage was a formality. A business arrangement honoring their grandfathers' promise. Nothing more.

  She had bigger things to worry about than school bullies.

  Leon put his phone down and tried not to think about it anymore.

  Monday came. School felt different without Jake and his friends. Quieter, somehow. People still whispered, but the edge of fear had dulled into gossip.

  Leon kept his head down, went to class, ate lunch with Marcus and the others. Normal routine. By Wednesday, even the rumors had mostly faded. Other dramas took their place—someone's breakup, a fight between two girls in junior year, the upcoming winter formal that no one really cared about yet.

  Life moved on.

  Leon's bruises faded. His ribs stopped hurting. He picked up extra shifts at the convenience store, grateful for the work and the distraction.

  Everything was normal again.

  Almost.

  Somewhere else. Same week.

  The office was all glass and steel, high above the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the skyline stretching endlessly in all directions. Inside, the temperature was precisely controlled at 68 degrees. Classical music played at barely audible levels.

  Iris sat at her desk, signing documents. Her assistant stood nearby, tablet in hand.

  "The Singapore meeting is confirmed for next month. Transportation and accommodations have been arranged."

  Stolen story; please report.

  "Fine."

  "The European representatives have requested a video conference to discuss the infrastructure amendments."

  "Schedule it."

  "And there's a report from—" The assistant hesitated.

  Iris looked up. Her expression was neutral, unreadable. "Yes?"

  "From the monitoring detail. The incident has been resolved."

  "Good."

  Iris returned to the documents. Her pen moved across the paper in smooth, practiced strokes. She didn't ask for details. Didn't request clarification.

  Just: "Good."

  The assistant made a note on her tablet. "Will there be anything else?"

  "No. That's all."

  The assistant left. The door closed with a soft click.

  Iris finished signing the current page, set it aside, and reached for the next one. Outside, the city glittered. Millions of lights. Millions of people going about their lives, unaware of the decisions being made in offices like this one.

  She worked in silence for another hour before her next meeting.

  Two weeks later.

  Leon was restocking the energy drinks when Mr. Chen's daughter arrived. She walked in looking stressed, phone pressed to her ear, and made a beeline for the back office.

  He didn't think much of it. She visited sometimes, checking on her father, bringing him food, trying to convince him to retire. Mr. Chen always refused.

  Twenty minutes later, she came back out. Her eyes were red.

  "Leon."

  He set down the box he was holding. "Is everything okay?"

  "My father—" Her voice cracked. "He had a heart attack this morning. He's in the hospital."

  Leon's stomach dropped. "Is he—"

  "He's stable. They got him there in time. But..." She wiped her eyes. "He can't keep doing this. The store, the stress. We've been telling him for years to stop, to come live with us in New York, but he wouldn't listen."

  "I'm sorry."

  "It's not your fault." She took a shaky breath. "But the store is closing. Permanently. He's agreed to move in with us once he's discharged. I wanted to tell you in person."

  Leon nodded slowly. No more job. No more steady income. He'd have to find something else, fast, before next month's rent came due.

  But that wasn't important right now.

  "Can I visit him?"

  "Not yet. Family only while he's in intensive care. But I'll let you know." She managed a small, tired smile. "He talks about you a lot. Says you're a good kid. Reliable."

  "He's a good boss."

  "He'll be glad to hear you said that."

  She left to deal with insurance and paperwork and all the other things that came with closing a business. Leon stood in the empty store, surrounded by shelves of snacks and drinks and magazines, and tried to process it.

  Mr. Chen was alive. That was the important thing. He'd be moving to New York, living with his family, getting proper care. That was good. That was what mattered.

  The store would close. Leon would figure something else out. He always did.

  He finished his shift, locked up, and walked home through streets that felt a little emptier than before.

  Friday afternoon, Mr. Chen's daughter called him.

  "He's being discharged tomorrow. We're driving to New York on Sunday."

  "That's good."

  "He wanted me to give you something." Papers rustled on her end. "Two weeks' severance pay and a reference letter. I'm putting them in the mail today."

  "He didn't have to—"

  "He insisted. Said you earned it."

  Leon's throat felt tight. "Tell him... tell him thank you. And that I hope he gets better."

  "I will."

  After the call ended, Leon sat in his apartment and stared at nothing in particular. He'd worked at that store for almost two years. It had been steady, reliable, boring in the best way. Mr. Chen had never asked too many questions, never treated him like a charity case, just gave him work and paid him fairly.

  Now it was over.

  Leon opened his laptop and started searching for job listings. Pizza delivery, retail stores, other convenience stores farther from his apartment. He bookmarked a few, made a list of places to apply over the weekend.

  His phone buzzed. A text from Marcus.

  hey man, want to grab food tomorrow?

  Leon typed back: can't. job hunting. chen's store closed.

  seriously? what happened?

  chen had a heart attack. he's okay but moving to NY with his family.

  damn. you need help finding something?

  i'll manage. thanks though.

  He set his phone aside and went back to job listings. Minimum wage, flexible hours, no experience required. The usual options.

  Outside, the city noise continued. Cars, sirens, someone's music too loud.

  Leon pulled up another application form and started filling it out.

  Just another problem to solve.