Ethan, escorted by the Intelligence Unit, returned to the same parking garage where he had his confrontation. Although the crime scene had already been processed and cleared, a few bloodstains still remained on the concrete floor of the garage.
As soon as they stopped, several people began approaching from a distance.
Anticipating any possible incident, the real estate agent Reed had moved ahead and sent several members of the security staff to escort them.
Seeing people waiting for them outside, the members of the Intelligence Unit relaxed slightly. Even so, they remained alert as they left the underground parking garage and crossed toward the building across the street.
The group quickly entered the lobby. Two private guards held the elevator doors open while everyone stepped inside. The ride up passed in silence, accompanied only by the mechanical hum of the elevator and the faint crackling of police radios.
When the doors opened on the real estate agency floor, Reed was already waiting for them at the end of the hallway.
—Mr. Morgan, everything is ready. Right this way, please. —he said, adjusting his tie, visibly nervous despite trying to appear calm.
He led them into a large conference room.
The moment they entered, a constant mechanical buzzing filled the room.
More than a dozen money-counting machines worked nonstop across several long tables, devouring stacks of cash at incredible speed. The repetitive sound of bills passing through the rollers created an almost hypnotic rhythm.
Ethan thought that Job, at that very moment, would probably enjoy such a sight.
But what was truly overwhelming was the amount. Mountains of bundled cash covered practically the entire room.
Erin froze the moment the secretaries began pulling out the money.
She knew Ethan had bragged about having nearly six million dollars in cash inside those duffel bags, but until then, it had only been an abstract idea.
Seeing the money physically in front of her was completely different.
The machines kept counting without stopping while employees verified figures, organized bundles, and reviewed documents under the supervision of private security and her Intelligence teammates.
Erin slowly turned her gaze toward Ethan, who was calmly sitting on a couch, drinking a Coca-Cola while she still struggled to process the scene before her eyes.
—God… how I hate him. —she muttered almost automatically.
Even some members of the team exchanged discreet glances. They were used to crime scenes, narcotics, and cash seizures, but this looked more like something out of a heist movie, as if they had just pulled off the biggest score of their lives.
Reed cleared his throat before nervously approaching the main table.
—Mr. Morgan, we have finished validating the origin of the funds to complete the procedure, —he said cautiously as he pulled out a folder and handed it over.
Inside were all the documents provided by Kinaho Moon Casino: financial records and proof certifying the legal origin of the money. Everything had been processed by the casino's lawyers.
Reed quickly reviewed the papers, flipping through the pages with growing relief.
—Is everything in order? —Ethan finally asked.
Reed looked up from the documents and nodded with a relieved smile.
—It is. And thank you for staying with us, even after everything that happened.
Reed let out a nervous laugh as he glanced once more at the absurd amount of cash in the room.
Several bank employees were there counting everything. All the funds would be deposited into a locked third-party escrow account for future operations.
Ethan sipped coffee while listening to the lawyer explain the contract clauses.
After making sure he understood everything, he began signing frantically under the lawyer's guidance.
The remaining tasks —such as notarization, property transfer, insurance, and taxes— were entrusted to the attorney.
Just as he expected, after counting the money, there was still a little over $100,000 left.
Discreetly, he slipped the remainder into his pockets.
After signing the contract, accompanied by his lawyer, he headed into a smaller adjoining conference room where Reed and the agency's attorney were waiting.
Twenty minutes later, Ethan walked out of the room smiling.
After signing the confidential settlement agreement, he received $600,000 in compensation for emotional damages, which was exactly the fee the agency would have earned from selling the house. So it was not only about the money; what truly mattered to him was the company's reputation.
With all that back-and-forth, he had managed to recover several years' worth of property taxes.
A few days later, Ethan, dressed in a black suit and holding a bouquet of white flowers, stood at the back of the crowd.
As Amazing Grace played, the coffin slowly descended six feet into the ground.
Ethan looked up; white clouds drifted gently along with the singing of young voices.
The ceremony ended, and everyone lined up to approach and say their final goodbye. Some cried bitterly, while others maintained solemn expressions as they tossed flowers onto the grave.
Ethan gently threw his bouquet; the petals scattered across the top of the coffin.
It was the funeral of the security staff member who had offered him help… and who had died in the crossfire.
Afterward, Ethan investigated his background. The deceased man's name was Marcus Hill. He was thirty-eight years old, worked as both a security guard and a bus driver, and lived in a small neighborhood south of the city with his wife, Denise, and their two children: ten-year-old Max and eight-year-old Sienna.
According to everything Ethan had been able to learn, Marcus was someone deeply loved within his community. He participated in school activities, helped at the neighborhood church on weekends, and often organized baseball games for the local kids.
—Good people deserve to be rewarded… —Ethan murmured to himself.
Ethan could be ruthless on many occasions and even indifferent toward most people. But seeing that man die had stirred something inside him.
Whenever he had the chance, he helped those in need; it was his way of balancing karma, if such a thing truly existed, or perhaps of giving meaning to the reason he had ended up in this world.
From what he had learned, Marcus's wife had been a full-time homemaker. Now she had to face the mortgage, car payments, daily expenses, and her children's education alone; all of it as an unemployed single mother still shattered by the loss of her husband.
That was why Ethan decided to help her financially. What she chose to do with the money was no longer his concern. He was simply repaying Marcus Hill's selfless kindness; it was the very least he could do.
He slowly moved through the line of people until he stopped in front of the deceased man's family.
Denise wore a simple dark floral dress. Exhaustion and grief were clearly reflected on her face.
Her children stood beside her.
Max remained serious, trying to appear strong despite his young age, while Sienna tightly held her mother's hand, partially hiding behind her whenever someone approached.
—My deepest condolences. —Ethan said, extending his hands— I truly regret your loss. Your husband was a great man. He left this world far too soon, and I am deeply sorry for your loss. I hope this can help you move forward during these difficult times.
—Did you know my husband? —she asked with some disbelief, studying the young man standing before her. He did not look familiar to her at all.
Ethan held her gaze for a few seconds before answering.
—Once.
The wind gently stirred the flowers placed beside the coffin while the murmurs of the attendees filled the cemetery.
—Thank you… —she replied softly.
She did not know who Ethan was. She did not remember ever seeing him before, nor had Marcus ever mentioned anyone by that name.
Ethan gave a slight nod.
—Your husband helped someone who needed it, —he finally said—. I'm only returning the favor.
Ethan pulled a white envelope from the pocket of his jacket. Denise looked up again, confused, as she took the envelope into her hands. By the time she tried to thank him, Ethan had already started walking away among the gravestones.
—Thank you… —she murmured, discreetly wiping away a tear before taking Sienna's hand again.
It was not until the stranger had left that the woman opened the envelope. Inside was a cashier's check.
The moment she saw the amount written on it, her eyes widened in shock. She covered her mouth tightly as a sob escaped her throat.
In front of a long row of zeros stood the number 265.
—Two hundred sixty-five thousand dollars!
Her fingers trembled as she stared into the distance, searching for the young man.
The tall young man had already gotten into the car and, within seconds, disappeared from her sight.
After disabling both a Cadillac and a Chevrolet Tahoe in less time than anyone would consider reasonable, Hank decided to get Ethan another vehicle.
This time it was an unmarked Ford Interceptor Utility.
At first glance, it looked like an ordinary Ford Explorer, the kind of family SUV people saw every day on the streets of Chicago. But beneath that discreet appearance, it hid a significantly more robust version: reinforced suspension, a modified engine, partial armor, and fully integrated police equipment inside, from the tactical radio to the hidden lights behind the grille.
Essentially, it was a patrol car dressed in civilian clothing.
Of course, when you have enough budget, you can afford to be careless with vehicles.
The Intelligence Unit destroyed around a dozen cars a year, almost as if it were just another routine part of the job.
Chases, ambushes, crashes, or simply operations that ended worse than planned; the cars rarely survived intact for very long.
Since he had to attend the funeral, Ethan simply took the day off.
The new house had successfully changed ownership, and a moving and cleaning company had done a thorough job.
After leaving the cemetery, he drove to his old home. Before noon, he had already packed all his belongings. In any case, he did not own many things, and the new house was fully furnished and equipped.
The new house was so large that he would need to ask Job for help installing a new security system, just like the one he had in Banshee, because he did not trust strangers with his safety.
The paperwork to terminate the lease agreement had already been completed; it only required paying a penalty.
He glanced at the small building, started the car, and drove toward Hyde Park.
Shortly afterward, he arrived at his new home.
There was plenty of open space in front of the house. He drove around the fountain and parked in front of the porch.
The Dodge Challenger was parked in the adjacent garage.
The spacious garage could easily hold up to five vehicles lined up side by side. The polished concrete floor still showed wet marks from melted snow and recent tire tracks.
On one side, an interior door connected directly to the house.
Ethan shut off the Interceptor's engine and remained inside the vehicle for a few seconds, listening to the faint ticking sound of cooling metal after the drive. Then he stepped out, opened the back, grabbed several belongings packed inside a duffel bag, and slung it over his shoulder.
He entered the house and walked through the large main living room. The place still smelled of new wood, fresh paint, and that faint cold scent left behind by houses that are too large when they remain empty.
An elegant curved staircase rose toward the second floor.
He slowly climbed the stairs, observing the absolute silence surrounding the house. The entire left wing was occupied by the master suite: an enormous bedroom with a fireplace, a private bathroom, and large windows overlooking the forest behind the property.
On the right side were two other generously sized bedrooms, while downstairs there were two smaller rooms, probably intended for guests or storage.
He pushed open the master bedroom door with his shoulder and dropped the bag onto the bed.
Then he walked toward the far end of the room. In front of him, a massive window covered almost the entire back wall. Beyond the glass, the forest could be seen partially covered in snow, and a little farther away, the outdoor pool.
Most of the snow had already been cleared, although a thin white layer still remained gathered along some edges and shaded corners.
The view drew a faint smile from him.
Ethan looked around the room with quiet satisfaction. For the first time in a long while, that place was beginning to feel like his.