Chapter 4 - The Garden of Rest
The morning sun broke over the rolling hills of Oakridge Memorial Park, casting long, golden rays through the thick canopy of ancient oak trees.
Unlike the bleak, muddy alleys of the drainage district, Oakridge was serene, surrounded by beds of blooming white lilies, soft green lawns, and carved granite monuments.
A small, elegant funeral service was held at the top of a gentle hill.
There were no crowds, no flashbulbs, no press. Only Alexander, Grandma Elena, Tommy, and Maria, Alexander’s assistant, stood before two pristine mahogany caskets adorned with wreaths of fresh yellow roses—the exact color Sofia had loved.
Grandma Elena held Tommy’s hand tightly, her tears falling silently onto the emerald grass.
When the minister concluded the prayer, Tommy stepped forward. From his coat pocket, he pulled out a small cloth pouch. Inside was a handful of the rich, volcanic Tuscan soil he had scooped from Alexander’s rooftop garden two mornings ago.
With trembling hands, the little boy scattered the dark dirt over his mother’s casket, then over his little sister’s.
"I promised you flowers, Sofia," Tommy whispered softly, his voice carrying across the quiet hilltop. "Now you have the whole garden."
Alexander stood behind the boy, his heart swelling with a fierce, protective instinct he had never known he possessed. He looked at the quiet landscape and made a silent vow to the two women lying beneath the stone: Your lives mattered. And I will make sure this city never forgets it.
As the service ended and the small group turned to walk back toward the waiting vehicles, a sleek black sedan pulled up along the gravel driveway of the cemetery.
The rear window rolled down, revealing the sharp, austere profile of Arthur Vance.
Vance stepped out of the car, holding an expensive leather umbrella despite the sunshine, a cold, mocking smile playing on his lips.
"Alexander," Vance said smoothly, taking a few steps toward them on the grass. "I heard you were playing philanthropist today. I must say, buying mahogany caskets for illegal squatters is a new level of corporate grandstanding, even for you."
Grandma Elena stiffened in terror, pulling Tommy behind her skirts as she recognized the man who had ordered their eviction.
Alexander stepped forward, placing himself directly between Vance and the family. His posture was rigid, his eyes burning with lethal calm.
"You're on private ground, Vance," Alexander said, his voice dangerously low. "Leave before I have security throw you out."
Vance chuckled, taking a slow sip from a silver flask. "Oh, calm down, Alexander. I just came to offer my condolences... and a word of friendly advice. That land those people were squatting on belongs to my firm. The city council approved the commercial re-zoning this morning. In forty-eight hours, bulldozers are rolling through The Shadows to clear every makeshift shack on that grid."
Tommy peeked out from behind his grandmother, his voice shaking with anger. "There are kids down there! Old people who are sick! You can't tear down their homes!"
Vance looked down at Tommy with disgust. "Homes? Those are illegal shanties, boy. They don't exist on any city map. And neither do you."
Vance turned his gaze back to Alexander, leaning in closer. "Don't get romantic, Morgan. You're a businessman. You know how this city works. You try to stop this development, and I’ll release the medical records of that boy’s mother to the press. I’ll show the world she died of an infectious strain of tuberculosis inside an illegal slum. I’ll have the health department quarantine the entire district, arrest the old woman for public endangerment, and put that boy in a state group home six hundred miles from here."
Alexander’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles turning stark white. The urge to strike the man across the face was almost overwhelming, but his strategic mind held him back.
"Are you finished?" Alexander asked, his voice deathly quiet.
Vance smirked, adjusting his coat. "Just getting started. Keep the kid if you want a pet project, Alexander. But stay out of the eastern district. That land is mine."
Vance turned on his heel, stepped back into his sedan, and sped away down the gravel road, leaving a cloud of gray dust hanging in the sunlight.
Alexander watched the car vanish, then turned back to Maria, his trusted assistant.
"Maria," Alexander commanded, his voice echoing with absolute authority.
"Yes, Mr. Morgan?"
"Cancel the European acquisition deal. Liquidate my private tech holdings in California. I want two hundred million dollars in liquid capital available in my personal account by noon tomorrow."
Maria gasped softly. "Sir... two hundred million? What are you planning to do?"
May you like
Alexander looked down at Tommy, taking the boy’s cold hand into his own.
"We aren't going to fight Arthur Vance in court, Maria," Alexander said, a dark, unstoppable fire gleaming in his eyes. "We are going to buy The Shadows."
