(Sorry I've been gone for so long. I have a thing with my eye so I was taking a rest)
[Edward POV]
-Christen Forger-
Bringing a box of my clothes—which was the only thing I had left now—I moved to the empty one-bedroom apartment in Pasadena.
The entire apartment was even smaller than Penny's house. It was run down, with paint peeling off the wall, one of the ceiling fan blades chipped, the floor looking quite dirty, and the light fixture left naked.
It was like I had stepped into Peter Parker's apartment after everyone forgot about him.
Yet, it was still fine, since I wasn't going to be sleeping here anyway. This was just the checkpoint to renew the duplicate's existence time limit.
I smiled and entered the house casually, kicking the door closed behind me.
When I decided to "live" here, most of the time I would be spending on sets and directing the movie.
"It is the most expensive social experiment in history," I muttered casually as I sat on the worn-out couch, facing nothing, since I had no money to even buy a TV.
The news cycle had already caught fire. Yesterday, "Christen Forger" had announced his fortune was gone, redistributed to charities and relief funds. Overnight, he was trending.
The traditional media hated the story. They reported it once, then went silent. The networks got spooked—too many of their real sponsors were billionaires who didn't want this kind of idea floating around.
There were no follow-ups. No deep dives. Just a quiet blackout.
Social media, however, exploded. Memes. Hashtags. Wild conspiracy threads.
Some users celebrated me as a saint. Others mocked me, placing bets on forums about whether I'd be homeless within a month. A few called me insane.
"Social media is as crazy as always." I smiled as I checked my phone.
My favorite was a crude sketch someone posted of me holding a cardboard sign that read—{Will direct movies for food.}
It spread everywhere.
Even Hollywood had noticed. Producers I barely knew suddenly called, offering me contracts to star in reality shows—
'From Penthouse to Poorhouse.'
'The Billionaire Who Gave It All Away.'
One network wanted to stage a fake survival competition—me versus the wilderness with nothing but a box of matches.
I rejected all of it, despite them offering me good money for it.
Holding a script in my hands, I smiled faintly. "I can finally see if people watch my movies because they're good… or if they only showed up because of me."
It would be a new experience to climb back up without using any powers, any connections—only what Christen Forger himself had, plus my directing.
I looked around the bare apartment. "I should clean this place first. Hmm… I'm broke, so maybe construction work for now, just enough to buy a laptop. Then I can switch to online jobs."
This was it. Would I be able to survive like this? I was so curious about it.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door to my apartment.
I opened it calmly, and in front of me was a group of young Latino men.
"Come with us," one of them said menacingly.
I sighed and said, "Sure."
They put a bag over my head and threw me into the back of a van.
When they opened the bag again, I was already at an abandoned warehouse, sitting on a wooden chair while they stared at me with hatred in their eyes.
One of them, a man with a skull painted over his face, walked to the center of the crowd and stopped right in front of me.
"Why did you do that, Ese?" He spoke with a thick Latin accent.
"Do what exactly?" I asked back.
All of them laughed, as if mocking me. The leader said, "Giving all your money away. Now, you don't have any protections left to save you from us."
"Are you guys the victims' families?" I asked.
The leader suddenly raised his hand up, but paused it there.
"Hector. What are you waiting for?" one of the subordinates asked.
"Shut up. I'm still deciding." The skull face replied annoyedly. Then, he said, "Yeah, we are the victims. My abuela died because of your father."
"That guy right there? He lost his entire familia! All because of your family!" he added, biting his lips, trying to manage his anger. Then, he brought his hand right down to my cheek, but paused before it hit me.
"Yet, I can't bring myself to kill you." He changed his tune, and placed his hand on my shoulder.
"Hector!" the same guy who spoke before was startled.
"Shut up, Vin. You saw his place, right? He really did give away all of his money. That's not an easy thing to do." Hector said, huffing a breath to calm down.
"Alright. We're going to do this. Even though you did all of that, most of us here are still angry. And we have no place to put the anger. So, what we're going to do… is a tournament."
"Tournament?" I was confused. I could kill all of them here easily, the only reason I went along was because I was curious.
"Bare-knuckle fight. If you don't make it to the top, we'll start again, and again, and again, until you win, against all of us. Then we will let you go," Hector said.
"That's… sounds interesting. Is there money involved?" I crossed my leg and asked casually.
Everyone was taken aback before they all laughed together.
"I wasn't joking though." I mumbled to myself.
…
-Edward-
"So what are we going to do?" I asked the girls for opinions.
Everyone went silent for a while. Haley suddenly said, "I'm out."
When faced with the others' questioning gazes, Haley shrugged and said, "I've already met his mother once. I'm not big on going through that again."
Haley was reminded of the time when we were in a relationship and my mother told her she didn't deserve me.
"So I'll be going back home. I will come back when she's gone." Haley said as she stood up from the couch.
"Oh, so you're not going to fight for us?" I said as she turned her back against me.
"OH-HO-HO! You did not just say that?!" Haley turned again, clearly agitated. "That's our technique. We can use that. You can't use that," she added.
"Really? Then I shouldn't ask you if you'd still love me if I was a worm too?" I asked.
"No. Why would I ever love a worm?" Haley was confused.
"Ah. So you think I'm ugly?" I acted offended.
Haley was taken aback, asking, "What is going on here?!"
"Now you know how it feels," Ness whispered to her. She turned towards me and said, "I'm staying."
Selena said, "I'm going to go back."
"I'm staying," Barbara said.
"I'm going to go too. I don't think I can handle facing your parents yet, especially since everyone knows what's going on here." Willa said casually.
I turned to Taylor, who looked indecisive.
"Alright, I'm going to stay—NO. I'm going to go back—Wait, isn't your mom… Um…" She gestured—spinning her index finger beside her head.
"Tay." Selena looked at her with disappointment.
"I'm sorry! I don't know what's the polite way to ask that." Taylor was exasperated.
"Definitely not that," Haley rebuked her.
"Shut it, you worm hater." Taylor snapped at Haley.
"Hey! I love worms– Wait—What am I even trying to defend myself from here?" Haley muttered with confusion.
"She has become better now. Her adult self will return for at least one hour a day," I replied to Taylor.
I added, "The reason she's not here for a while is also because of that. So it's surprising that she wants to come here now."
…
The next day, my mother and my aunt finally came to visit after seven long weeks.
Since their stay in Cuba, my mother's mind seemed steadier.
Sometimes, I could speak with her– the adult mind—over the phone.
But it was always the child's voice, Mirr, who called every single day without fail.
When she stepped through the door, I pulled her into my arms. "I've missed you," I said.
Mirr was smiling and bright-eyed. She hugged me back affectionately. "I've missed you too, Eddy."
Then I turned to my aunt and embraced her as well. Something on her hand caught my eye.
"A ring?" I asked.
Aunt Camila flushed slightly. "Yeah. I forgot to tell you. I'm engaged."
"To be married?" I blinked. "With who?"
"Batman," Mirr said proudly.
Aunt Camila shot her a look. "I'll introduce you later," she said quickly.
We settled into the living room, trading stories about their trip.
"Everyone was so nice to me! I love it there," Mirr said, bubbling with excitement. "But sometimes they bow when they see me," she added, puzzled.
"Eddy, you should come live there too. I know this country's been trying to ruin you. Back home, no one would dare to mess with you," Mirr said with an earnest grin.
"No, I can't, Mirr. I live here," I said gently.
She pouted. "But you're family. Family sticks together."
"We are sticking together. In LA, right? Aren't you coming back to move in with me?"
Both Mirr and Camila exchanged a look—quick, but enough for guilt to flash in their eyes.
"What's that look for? You're not coming back?" I asked, my voice low.
Camila sighed. "We talked… for a while. And we decided it would be better for us to live in Cuba."
"You talked," I said evenly, "without me."
Mirr looked down, and Camila continued carefully, "Miranda's been improving there. She's calmer, happier. And, Edward… you have your life here. We've built ours there."
I leaned back on the couch, dragging my hand through my hair. "So you came back just to tell me you're leaving?"
"No. Old me wanted to see you too," Mirr said quickly.
I thought for a moment and sighed. "Alright. It's not like I can't visit."
With the portal, I could be there in seconds anyway.
"Also," my aunt said, pointing behind me, "we definitely don't want to get in the middle of… that."
I turned. Several heads were stacked vertically, peeking from behind the wall.
When they realized they'd been spotted, they bolted like startled cats.
…
Later that night, my mother sat outside on the patio, sipping tea beneath the quiet hum of the city.
There was a gentleness to her stillness, the kind that only comes after storms.
I joined her, sitting across the table.
She smiled faintly, setting her cup down. "Edward, it's been a while."
"Hello, Mother," I said.
"How are you? I've been reading some… very concerning things."
I exhaled softly. "Things have been fine, actually. I'm too strong for people to hurt me."
She chuckled. "What arrogance. Nobody's invulnerable."
I shrugged. "Grandpa's been sick."
Her expression tightened, and I told her everything—about Dad, about Frankie's newlywed life, the small family dramas she'd missed.
Then I said quietly, "I think I can bring you back now."
She looked up.
"With my Eternal Mangekyō, I can fix it—piece your mind together completely." I paused. "The question is, are you ready to come back?"
Silence stretched between us. Then she shook her head. "No. I don't want to come back yet."
Her gaze softened. "Mirr hasn't felt enough happiness. I don't want to return and ruin that for her."
I sighed, rubbing my chin. "Alright. I get it."
"See?" she said with a knowing smile. "You're not invulnerable after all."
Her eyes carried that familiar sadness—one that could read every thought I tried to hide.
"And," she added, shifting tone, "we need to talk about the girls inside your house."
I blinked. "What about them?"
"Did you impregnate any of them yet—"
"Pfffbbbt—" I spat out my tea, coughing. "What—no! What are you even asking?"
She only shrugged. "I'd like to hold my grandchild soon. I expect at least fifteen of them."
"FIFTEEN!?"
"Sorry—fifty." She said it so casually that I froze. "You don't even have to marry any of them. Just spread your seeds—"
"Okay. New topic."
"No, I want to keep talking about this."
"What about Cuba?" I said quickly. "How did you feel when you saw the changes?"
"I'll settle for forty-five grandchildren," she said.
I sighed. "That's been your lifelong dream, hasn't it?"
"Now my dream is to hold them," she said softly.
"You're not going to let up, are you?"
"Are you going to marry any of these girls?" she asked suddenly, her tone turning serious. "Do you think any of them is the one?"
"I… um…" I hesitated.
…
The next day, I talked with my aunt about her engagement.
After she met with Wayne Bruce– the spy who infiltrated Cuba before and found himself madly in love with her—she realized he had sacrificed a lot, just to see her again.
His job, financial stability, even turning himself into a wanted criminal in order to help the Cubanese resistance before the revolt happened.
He never told her about it, but since the people he helped were part of the resistance army, they told Camila about it when they met each other again.
Wayne thought Camila had died, yet he still helped the others, which made Camila open her heart back to him.
They continued where they left off before Camila figured out he was a spy, and they got engaged in only three weeks.
"I should meet the guy," I muttered.
My aunt smiled and said, "Why, so you can check him out and see if he's perfect for me?"
"Absolutely. And he also skipped the process of asking for my blessing," I said jokingly.
Camila rolled her eyes and said, "Sure, 'Dad.'"
I nodded in satisfaction and said, "So, when you move out to Cuba, you will stop doing your business here, huh?"
She was a bit confused and said, "I've shut down my car shop two years ago."
"Not quite," I said vaguely.
She became interested and said, "What do you mean, not quite?"
"I mean, it's not closed," I said with a cheeky grin. "I kept it up, and it's actually a pretty successful business now. Most people in Calexico go there for anything about their car."
At first, I hired a couple of mechanics for it. But they were using the car shop for smuggling, so I fired them and changed the mechanics to androids instead.
They could detect the problem with the car within seconds, so a lot of people opted to go there to fix their cars.
"You really never checked your business account?" I asked her.
She shook her head and said, "No. I thought it would've been shut down once my business was nonexistent."
"Well, I took some fee for managing, paying the workers, rent, utilities, and renewing the business licenses. Then, I gave you everything else."
She took out her phone and sighed. "I've already forgotten my username and password."
"Don't worry. Oracle can get that for you," I grinned.
She checked out the account and widened her eyes. It was a successful business, so she had a lot in her account. I also expanded the car shop to multiple locations in the state, so the money was pretty good.
"Edward, I can't take this." She tried to give the money back to me. "I didn't do anything."
"What do you mean you didn't do anything? You went to fight the good fight in Cuba." Seeing her apprehension, I added, "I'm not even the one who took care of your business. I gave it to someone else to manage."
"Then give it to them," she said firmly.
I shook my head and said, "No. They know who they are working for."
"Come on!" She was reluctant to take the money.
Then, I had an idea.
"You know what? What if we settle this the old-fashioned way? Your way."
"What way?" she asked, calming down slightly.
I smirked and said, "You know, the thing you always wanted to bring me to, but we could never go."
"Church?" she was confused.
I rolled my eyes and said, "Not that. The other thing."
"OhhHHH!" She widened her eyes slightly. "Can we even do that now?"
"I think it's the perfect time for it since the streets are basically empty," I told her.
Taylor, Ness, and Barbara followed us to Calexico's streets.
I sat in my Mustang while my aunt sat in her purple Corvette.
I revved the Mustang. The deep growl rattled the windows of the shuttered shops. Across from me, Camila's Corvette purred—a sleek predator painted in violet, chrome glinting under neon signs.
"You sure about this kid?" She said cockily. "I rarely lost a race."
I grinned and said, "This is the first time a street race is held in order to lose money. If you win, I will give the money to the staff as a bonus. But if I win, you will use the money for the wedding."
"It's a bet!" She said excitedly.