The rain-slicked pavement of Willow Road cut through a dense, foggy forest. Leo pedaled his black BMX bike with urgency, trying to make it home before the storm got any worse.
Suddenly, a massive black SUV surged around the blind curve, driving recklessly over the center line. It sideswiped Leo’s back tire at high speed, sending the teenager flying into the air. He crashed violently into the ditch, his shoulder absorbing the brutal impact.
The SUV ground to a halt, tires hissing on the wet asphalt. The driver, an executive named Mr. Kane, rolled down his tinted window. He didn’t look remorseful—just severely inconvenienced.
“Stay off the road, kid!” Mr. Kane barked, a cold sneer on his face, before accelerating aggressively down the road, leaving the injured boy behind.
Trembling from shock and pain, Leo pulled out his phone with a shaking hand and hit speed dial. “Dad, I need help. I’m on Willow Road,” he sobbed, clutching his injured arm.
Mr. Kane checked his rearview mirror, convinced he had completely gotten away with it. But less than three miles ahead, the quiet forest road was suddenly blocked. Three large, identical black SUVs swerved horizontally across the lanes, completely trapping him.
Mr. Kane slammed on his brakes, his tires screeching as his vehicle slid to a stop inches from the blockade.
Tactical doors flew open instantly. Men wearing sharp black suits and tactical gear stepped out, drawing their weapons with military precision. One of the agents marched directly to Mr. Kane’s window, tapping the barrel of his handgun against the glass.
“Step out of the vehicle, Mr. Kane,” the agent commanded, his tone icy.
With panic flooding his chest, Mr. Kane looked frantically at his passenger. “Who is this kid?!” he stammered, his earlier arrogance melting away.
The agent outside didn’t blink. “The Chairman’s son.”
The following morning, a suffocating silence hung over the top floor of Henderson Industries. Mr. Kane stood inside the glass elevator, sweating through his expensive suit as the lift chimed and the doors parted.
Standing right outside the doors was Mr. Henderson, the powerful and feared Chairman of the corporation. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his face was a mask of sheer, unadulterated fury. Two heavily armed security guards stood right behind him.
“Mr. Kane,” the Chairman said, his voice dangerously low. “I heard you were having trouble with my son.”
Mr. Kane dropped to his knees right there in the elevator doorway. “Sir, please! I didn’t know it was your son! It was a dark road, I swear—”
“You’re fired,” Mr. Henderson cut him off, stepping closer until he towered over the kneeling man.
“Please, Mr. Henderson, don’t ruin my career over an accident!” Mr. Kane begged, tears of panic welling in his eyes.
“An accident is hitting a mailbox, Kane,” the Chairman hissed, his eyes burning. “Attempting to run over my son and leaving him to bleed out in a ditch is a declaration of war.”
Mr. Henderson gave a slight wave of his hand.
The two security guards instantly moved into action. The first guard grabbed Mr. Kane by his slicked-back hair, hauling him to his feet before driving a heavy fist straight into his stomach. Mr. Kane doubled over, gasping for air, but the second guard caught him, spinning him around and slamming his face violently against the elevator’s steel frame.
“Stop! Please, you’re going to kill me!” Mr. Kane choked out, blood dripping from his nose onto his white collar.
“Be glad my men got to you before I did,” the Chairman said coldly, showing absolutely no mercy.
The guards aggressively pulled Mr. Kane’s arms behind his back, locking heavy steel handcuffs tightly around his wrists. They dragged his staggering, broken form down the hallway toward the freight doors, where two city detectives were already waiting with an arrest warrant for felony hit-and-run and attempted vehicular manslaughter.
Mr. Kane wailed in despair as the detectives grabbed his coat, dragging him away toward a life behind bars.
Mr. Henderson watched him go, adjusting his cuffs with absolute calm. “Clean the blood off the elevator,” he ordered his staff. “And make sure my son’s bike is replaced by noon.”