Professional

The glaring light of his smartphone screen cast harsh shadows across Jaxson Reed’s face in the dim room. He sat in the quiet solitude of his study, staring blankly at the exclusive group chat. Just moments ago, Diana had dropped a photo into the thread, sending the chat into an instant frenzy. Jaxson rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. He pulled the phone closer, squinting at the high-resolution image on his screen.

The man in the picture was facing away from the camera, cycling a cheap, shared city bike. Yet, the broad, unyielding line of his back sent a jolt of pure recognition through Jaxson. He looks exactly like Van, Jaxson thought, his pulse quickening. No, it can't be him. Van doesn't ride a bike. Even if he did, he would never carry Diana on the back of one.

His mind short-circuited at the sheer absurdity of the scenario. The supreme titan of the financial world, Lord Kensington, pedaling a flimsy rental bike through the streets of Oakhaven? It defied all logic.

Before Jaxson could type a response, his phone buzzed rapidly. Harper Quinn’s icon appeared briefly at the bottom of the screen, indicating she had seen the photo, but she remained silent. Winston, however, was already typing at lightning speed.

Congratulations, Diana, Winston sent.

A second later, Diana replied with a blushing smiley face emoji.

Winston followed up with a bright thumbs-up. Diana responded with an even shyer emoji, fanning the flames of the gossip.

As expected from Lord Kensington, Winston typed, his messages appearing in rapid succession. This is a so-called professional! Look at that photo. It has barely been a single day, and he has already managed to win over the famously unapproachable Diana Maxwell.

Jaxson forced a faint smile, his thumbs hovering over the digital keyboard, but he said nothing. The banter felt surreal to him.

Then, Winston dropped the real question, his blunt nature showing through the screen. Do you think they have slept together yet?

Jaxson was taken aback. His fingers froze. He argued fiercely against the notion, his thumbs flying across the glass. Well, I don't think so. Diana might seem like a daring, outgoing person to the public, but she is actually incredibly conservative. She wouldn't just sleep with a man so quickly, no matter who he is.

Winston was relentless. How can you be sure? Do you really think they would broadcast it to us if they did?

Jaxson stared at that last message. The blinking cursor taunted him. For a long moment, he had no idea how to answer.

An hour later, the city air grew chilly. At a dimly lit crossroads far from the glittering downtown district, Diana stood beneath a flickering streetlamp. The distant hum of the city felt miles away. She checked her watch, her breath curling into mist in the cool night air.

"I'm here," she murmured softly, heaving a long sigh.

Moments later, the roaring engines of three sleek vehicles broke the silence. A heavy black SUV led the pack, pulling up to the curb with a smooth halt. The doors opened. A hulking bodyguard, dressed in a sharp black suit with an earpiece coiled behind his ear, stepped out onto the asphalt. He moved with military precision, reaching into the backseat and pulling out a heavy, coarse gunny sack.

He walked over to where Vance waited on his rusted city bike and respectfully handed the sack over. Nestled inside the rough, dirty fabric was exactly one million dollars in crisp, banded cash.

Diana stepped forward, a sweet, lingering smile playing on her lips. She looked at Vance, her eyes gleaming under the dim streetlights. "Can I have your contact number?" she asked, her voice carrying a hopeful lilt. "Just to stay in touch."

Vance did not return the smile. His expression remained flat, his eyes cold and distant. "No, that's not necessary," he stated flatly. "The transaction is complete. We are even now."

He took the heavy sack from the bodyguard. The coarse material rasped against his jacket. With rough, practiced movements, he hoisted the massive weight and strapped it securely to the flimsy rear rack of his squeaking bicycle. He swung his leg over the saddle, mounted the bike, and pushed off. The rusty chain groaned under the sudden tension. He rode off into the enveloping darkness without offering her a single backward glance.

Diana stood on the sidewalk, watching his silhouette fade into the night. Despite his blunt rejection, the sweet smile never left her face. She felt no irritation, only a deepening sense of intrigue.

Pedaling through the labyrinth of the city, Vance felt the chill of the night wind against his face. The rhythmic squeak of the bicycle’s pedals offered a monotonous soundtrack to his racing thoughts. After a few blocks, he slowed down, steering with one hand as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

He opened his messages and texted Audrey: Where are you? I'll be home late tonight.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and kept pedaling, waiting for the familiar buzz of a reply. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. He pulled the phone out again. The screen remained agonizingly blank. No reply.

A dark frown creased his forehead. He tapped her contact name and dialed her number. The phone rang, the hollow tone echoing in his ear, before finally clicking over to voicemail. He ended the call, his grip tightening on the handlebars.

A dark suspicion began to gnaw at the edges of his mind. Did she meet up with Preston? The thought hit him like a physical blow. The Oakhaven Opera House concert was scheduled to start at nine o'clock. He glanced at the time glowing on his screen. It was already half-past eight.

Convinced she was spending the evening with the man who was actively trying to destroy his marriage, Vance stood up on the pedals. He aggressively drove the wobbly, squeaking bike forward, cutting through traffic, heading straight toward the dazzling lights of the opera house.

The Oakhaven Opera House stood as a monument to the city's extreme wealth. Grand stone columns reached up to the night sky, bathed in theatrical spotlights. Very few people knew that the renowned Harper Quinn was performing tonight. Those in on the secret were exclusively the biggest shots and wealthiest elites of Oakhaven. Because of this, the grand entrance plaza was packed to the brim with gleaming luxury cars.

Valets rushed back and forth, opening doors for men in bespoke tuxedos and women in shimmering evening gowns. The air smelled of expensive perfume and high-octane exhaust.

Finally, breaking through the sea of polished metal and high society, Vance arrived on his rusted, wobbly bike. He pulled up near the edge of the plaza, dropping one foot to the concrete to steady himself. The heavy gunny sack shifted awkwardly on the rear rack.

His sharp eyes scanned the crowd. It didn't take long to find her.

Audrey was stepping gracefully out of the back of a massive, gleaming Rolls-Royce. She wore an elegant, form-fitting white dress that bared her smooth shoulders. The fabric caught the bright plaza lights, making her look breathtakingly beautiful, an ethereal vision amidst the chaotic wealth.

Hovering just a few steps away was Preston. He was dressed in a pristine designer suit, bowing slightly with a sickeningly sweet smile to ingratiate himself with her. His exaggerated gestures gave off a fake air of nobility, playing the role of the perfect gentleman.

Vance's face instantly darkened. A cold fury settled in his chest. Seriously? he thought, his jaw clenching. How could she just ignore everything I told her?

As he stared, another set of doors opened on the opposite side of the plaza. Bryce and his girlfriend, Chloe, stepped out of their own ride. Bryce, a notorious car fanatic, had his eyes wide open, sparkling with raw greed as he took in the magnificent setting.

"Oh my! Look at these luxury cars!" Bryce exclaimed, his voice carrying over the ambient noise. "I wish I could get one too."

Chloe was equally swept up in the magnificent display of wealth. As she turned her head to admire a passing sports car, her gaze snagged on a jarring sight. "Isn't that Vance?" she uttered, pointing a manicured finger toward the edge of the plaza.

Bryce turned his head. His sneer formed instantly. He saw Vance sitting on the cheap bike, one foot on the ground, staring in their direction with eyes like chips of ice.

Audrey followed her brother's gaze. Her heart skipped a sudden, terrified beat as she noticed Vance's furious expression. She abandoned Preston's side and immediately hurried over to where her husband waited.

"Darling, why are you here?" Audrey asked, her voice tight with panic.

Vance remained seated on the bike, his posture rigid. He looked down at her, his voice dropping to a cold, indifferent register. "Why do you ask? Are you unhappy that I showed up and spoiled your fun?"

Audrey opened her mouth to deny it, to shake her head, but something snapped inside her. A wave of bitter disappointment washed over her, twisting her fear into defensive anger. "Are you stalking me?" she snapped, her eyes flashing. "Vance, how can you not trust me? Why did you follow me here? Am I such a terrible, unfaithful woman to you?"

Looking at him now, Audrey felt a deep weariness. She could no longer see the vibrant, confident young man she had married. Instead, sitting on that rusted bike in his cheap jacket, all she saw in his eyes was despair, suspicion, and endless exhaustion.

"As a married couple, shouldn't we be honest with each other?" Vance retorted, his patience evaporating into the cold night air.

Audrey shot him a harsh glare. The edges of her eyes had already reddened with unshed tears. "Will you believe me if I tell you nothing is going on between Preston and me?" she huffed, her chest heaving.

"Then why are you here with him?" Vance demanded loudly, his voice cutting through the plaza chatter. "Do you remember what I told you back in the hospital? Aren't you aware of what Preston is up to? I especially hate women who don't stay away from a flirtatious man."

Before Audrey could muster a response, Bryce strutted over from the grand entrance. He had been corrupted by Preston's lavish spending throughout the afternoon. Bryce was flaunting a newly bought, incredibly expensive tailored suit that cost over two hundred thousand dollars. He kept raising his wrist, repeatedly checking a gleaming Patek Phillipe watch that Preston had bought for him. Preston had spent the day changing Bryce's values, giving the lazy loafer the ultimate delusion that he had ascended to the upper class.

Bryce openly and loudly mocked the sight of his brother-in-law straddling the cheap bike. He looked Vance up and down, clicking his tongue. "Tsk! Tsk! Oh, isn't this Mr. Kensington? Did you seriously ride a rental bike to the opera house?"

Vance shot Bryce a lethal glare. His hands gripped the handlebars tightly. I would beat you into the pavement if you weren't my wife's brother, Vance thought, his knuckles turning white.

"Stop acting like a buffoon! Get a divorce as soon as possible," Bryce sneered, his voice dripping with venom. He pointed a finger back at the gleaming Rolls-Royce. "Look! That's Press's car. And this rusty piece of trash is your bike. Isn't it obvious that you are not up to standard? If you actually love my sister, let her go. Men who have no money are trash! Without money, you can't even afford to be in a relationship!"

Vance glared at his brother-in-law. His voice dropped to a dangerous, deadly register. "Get lost."

Instinctively, Audrey immediately stepped in front of Bryce, fiercely defending her parasitic brother. "He is my brother..." she started.

Enraged by her constant, biased stance, Vance finally snapped. His voice echoed loudly. "Your brother! You only ever care for your brother. Have you ever thought about me?"

Audrey did not talk back. She stood there in her elegant white dress, looking into Vance's furious eyes in silence. The heavy weight of their failing marriage pressed down on her shoulders. Sighing wearily and rubbing her temples, she looked away.

"Vance, I'm tired of all this drama," she said softly, her voice devoid of emotion. "Just go back first. Please leave the premises."

Preston stood a comfortable distance away, beaming radiantly. He was thoroughly enjoying the chaotic show of a marriage crumbling right before his eyes. He stayed quiet, letting Bryce do his dirty work.

Bryce, emboldened by Audrey's defense, continued his relentless assault. "Vance, you'd better find a way to pay back that six hundred thousand dollar debt first. But from the looks of it, I suppose that's never going to happen." Bryce smirked, raising his wrist again to show off the blinding sparkle of the Patek Phillipe. "After all, six hundred thousand is just the cost of my new watch."

Bryce stepped forward and violently kicked the dirty gunny sack strapped to the back of the bike. The heavy sack barely budged, but the impact sent a cloud of dust into the air.

"Oh my! Are you collecting trash now?" Bryce taunted, laughing loudly. "Can you even earn six hundred thousand by doing that?"

The crowd of onlookers began to whisper. Chloe stood nearby, stifling a snicker, her face twisted in a look of profound disdain. Every eye in the vicinity was fixed on the dirty, out-of-place gunny sack tied to Vance's bike.

Vance slowly dismounted from the bicycle. He stood tall, the cheap fabric of his jacket doing nothing to hide the sudden, imposing shift in his posture. He ignored Bryce entirely. He ignored the whispers. He ignored Audrey's tired sighs.

He fixed his eyes solely on Preston. He raised his hand and gestured coldly with one finger. "You! Come over here!"

Preston arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. Keeping his cool, he approached fearlessly, adopting a polite, feigned gentlemanly grace. He stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms with a smug, victorious smile. "Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked smoothly, ensuring the contrast between his refined demeanor and Vance's explosive anger was obvious to everyone watching.

Vance didn't speak immediately. He reached back toward the bicycle. His strong hands gripped the thick fabric of the dirty gunny sack. With a sharp tug, he ripped it free from the rear rack.

He spun around and tossed the heavy sack onto the concrete ground right before Preston's polished Italian leather shoes. The impact landed with a massive, heavy thud, the sheer weight of the contents causing the dirty canvas to groan.

"Here's one million cash!" Vance declared, his voice ringing out like a judge's gavel across the quieted plaza. "Stay away from Audrey!"

Upon hearing that bold, impossible declaration, Preston blinked. He looked down at the dirty, trash-like sack resting against his expensive shoes. He looked back up at Vance's dead-serious face.

The silence hung in the air for one solitary second before Preston threw his head back. He burst out laughing. The sound of his mocking laughter echoed loudly across the stone columns of the grand plaza before he responded, "Are you kidding me?"