Dubious Generosity

"Cousin?" Clara swiped the glowing green icon on her screen. A bright, beaming smile broke across her face as she pressed the phone to her ear. "Cousin, how are you so free today to call me?"

Edgar watched from the plush living room sofa, his brow furrowing into a deep frown. He remembered the man on the other end of the line very well. Clara's cousin was just a mid-level secretary operating within the Zenith Chamber of Commerce. A known opportunist who had conveniently disappeared when the Vance family faced bankruptcy.

Clara chatted animatedly, her voice dripping with sweet affection and eager validation. Edgar waved his hand in the air, brushing off the annoyance creeping into his chest. After a few minutes of giggling and nodding, Clara lowered the phone. She spun toward Edgar, her eyes shining with sheer triumph.

Clara pointed excitedly at the towering stacks of newly minted banknotes resting on the low coffee table. "Honey, honey! My cousin just told me the truth! He was the one who ordered the gang to send the money over to us!"

Edgar scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

"What do you mean?" Clara's smile faltered, her tone dipping into defensiveness.

Edgar did not mince his words, refusing to let her live in a delusion. "That rascal is greedy to the bone. He would never let someone walk away with six million when he could easily pocket it for himself. Tell me, why would your cousin be so nice to us all of a sudden without any reason? He abandoned us when we had nothing."

"Edgar, how could you talk about my own flesh and blood that way? He is family! He was just trying to lend us a helping hand!" Clara's face darkened instantly. She clenched her jaw, her knuckles turning white around her phone.

Edgar leaned forward and gestured toward the massive pile of cash. "I'm just being realistic. It's six million, Clara. Not six thousand. Don't you think Victor might have changed his mind and offered this compensation because of Kae?"

"What did you just say? I will give you another chance to rephrase that." Clara glared at her husband, her eyes flashing with stubborn resentment at the mere mention of her son.

Edgar let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temples. "Look, we haven't heard from your cousin in ages. If he didn't secure this, then Kaelen must have. There is no other logical explanation for those ruthless gangsters to offer so much cash and land. Kae has the strength."

Clara raised her chin proudly, refusing to concede. "My cousin and I grew up together! He was nominated as a director of the Zenith Chamber of Commerce last month because of his stellar performance! He has the high-level connections to make this happen. Your precious son just got out of prison. What can a convicted criminal possibly do?"

"I'm going to prepare dinner." Edgar stood up, shaking his head. Her blind trust in that greedy fraud was infuriating, and he knew arguing further would only escalate the fight. He turned his back on her and headed toward the kitchen without another word.

"I don't like you bringing up your son, so you have no right to badmouth my cousin!" Clara wrinkled her nose. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, watching his retreating figure.

Meanwhile, outside the perimeter of the Vance Residence, the evening shadows stretched long and dark beneath a massive oak tree. A young man dressed in a sharp, tailored suit and polished leather shoes marched down Oak Lane. He adjusted his collar, a greedy glint shining in his eyes as he approached the property gates. He had heard about the massive payout and intended to claim a hefty cut for himself.

Before he could take another step toward the entrance, two figures materialized seamlessly from the surrounding darkness. The Phantom Rangers stood like immovable stone statues, blocking his path with their imposing frames.

"Who are you looking for?" the Ranger on the left demanded, his voice devoid of any human warmth.

The young man halted in his tracks. He raised his chin, puffing out his chest to project a false air of authority. "Who are you? Don't you know who I am? Step aside!"

The Ranger on the left did not flinch, his posture rigid and commanding. "Unauthorized personnel are not allowed to trespass on this property."

The young man sneered, glaring at the guards sideways to use his status to intimidate them. "Is this your home? What can you do if I insist on going in? Do you know who I work for at the Chamber of Commerce?"

The Phantom Ranger on the right remained silent. He merely reached into his tactical vest. With a fluid, casual flick of his wrist, a silver dagger shot through the crisp night air.

Thwack.

The lethal blade buried itself deep into the thick, solid trunk of the nearby oak tree, quivering just inches from the young man's ear.

The cousin froze. All the false bravado vanished from his face in a split second. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in sheer terror. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he stared at the hilt of the weapon.

He shrank his neck, his voice cracking into a pathetic, high-pitched squeak. "It's a misunderstanding! Just a misunderstanding! I've mistaken the wrong house. Goodbye!"

He spun on his heel and sprinted down the alley as fast as his polished dress shoes could carry him. The two Phantom Rangers exchanged brief, indifferent glances. They shook their heads in unison at the cowardly display and melted back into the shadows, disappearing from sight as if they had never been there.

Halfway down the street, the young man risked a terrified, breathless glance over his shoulder. Seeing no lethal assassins pursuing him, he slowed his frantic pace and leaned heavily against a brick wall, panting for air. He reached a trembling hand into his inner coat pocket. His fingers brushed against a thick, bulging envelope stuffed with cash.

A sly, weasel-like grin crept onto his pale face. He licked his dry lips, his greed overriding his lingering fear. He had still managed to swindle a decent sum before getting chased off. Clutching the envelope tightly to his chest, he scurried toward a sedan parked at the side of the main road, jumped inside, and drove off into the night.

Miles away, at The Canopy.

Inside the sprawling, opulent VVIP suite, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Kaelen sat cross-legged on the plush, woven carpet, his eyes closed in quiet, focused meditation. The ambient lighting cast long shadows across his chiseled features.

The heavy oak door swung open with a soft click. Silas stepped into the room, a digital tablet tucked neatly under his arm. "Boss, I just received news from our intelligence network. Someone is hiring a chauffeur for my niece."

Hiring a driver for his daughter?

Kaelen slowly opened his eyes. The stillness in the expansive room shifted. He tilted his head, his interest immediately piqued by the sudden opportunity. "Who is the employer?"

Silas stood at attention. "Hazel Kensington."

Hazel Kensington?

Kaelen furrowed his brows, sifting through a mental catalog of names. A few moments later, the image of a young, energetic girl with two thick, bouncy braids surfaced in his mind. She was Lyra Braddock's younger cousin. The pretty, quick-witted, and endlessly carefree girl who always insisted on tagging along wherever they went.

A faint, nostalgic smile touched Kaelen's lips. How much resentment had he harbored toward her in the past? It was understandable that he had despised her back then. She had a unique knack for ruining the romantic atmosphere whenever he and Lyra went on dates, acting as the ultimate, inescapable third wheel.

If she had not been Lyra's closest and most beloved relative back then, he would have gladly paid someone a handsome sum of money to drag her away and lock her in a closet just to buy a few hours of peace. The memories, once deeply annoying, now felt like precious, irreplaceable treasures from a lifetime ago.

Noticing the strange, distant smile lingering on Kaelen's face, Silas called out anxiously. "Boss?"

Kaelen cleared his throat, quickly regaining his usual cool, imposing demeanor. "Why is Hazel hiring a driver for my daughter? Did her grandfather injure his foot again?"

Silas nodded. "Yes. The old man had a recent accident, so they desperately need someone reliable to handle the daily school runs. It is a perfect, natural opportunity for you to step in and get close."

Kaelen tapped his fingers rhythmically against his knee, formulating his next move. "I see."

Silas stepped closer, his expression growing serious as he switched topics. "There is one more thing. About half an hour ago, an official from the Zenith Chamber of Commerce sent someone to Oak Lane."

Kaelen's eyes narrowed, dropping the temperature in the luxury suite a few degrees. "Who? What did they do there?"

Silas kept his hands straight at his sides. "His surname is Bates. He is Mrs. Vance's cousin. According to our surveillance teams, he brought a small amount of money over to stage a show and claim credit for the six million. But the Phantom Rangers stopped him at the perimeter before he could set foot inside the house."

Cousin?

A cold, predatory glint flashed across Kaelen's dark eyes. Clara's cousin was a known fraud, a bottom-feeder looking to capitalize on their sudden windfall.

Kaelen waved his hand dismissively, his tone dripping with icy resolve. "Unauthorized people are not allowed anywhere near my family. Make sure the perimeter remains airtight."

Silas bowed his head in compliance. "Understood, Boss."

Silas did not leave immediately. He lingered in the center of the room, his grip tightening around the edges of his tablet. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with unspoken tension.

When Silas finally raised his head, his jaw was clenched tight. He looked at Kaelen with a mixture of hesitation and grim determination. "Boss, there is something else I need to report to you. But... I need you to stay calm. You cannot get agitated about this."

Kaelen stopped tapping his knee and locked his piercing gaze onto his subordinate, sensing the gravity of the incoming news. "Don't beat around the bush. Tell me."

Silas squared his shoulders, preparing to drop the bombshell. "According to a deep dive investigation done by the Phantom Rangers, combined with my own analytical inference... there is something fundamentally wrong with Ms. Braddock's death."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

"I knew it!" Kaelen muttered, his fists clenching involuntarily.

Silas's voice grew tight with restrained anger. "It wasn't a simple tragedy. The accident that took her life was meticulously staged. The crash details don't add up, and the police reports were deliberately altered. Someone powerful orchestrated the whole thing to look like a random tragedy."

The air instantly froze.

Kaelen stood up abruptly, a dangerous, murderous intent erupting from his being. "What did you say?"