Chapter Forty-Five – A Quiet Shift
Morning sunlight streaked through the thin curtains, brushing Jason's cheek as he tightened his wristwatch and stood before the mirror. He adjusted his collar neatly, then turned toward Sophie's door. She was sitting at the dining table, brushing her hair while eating toast.
"I'll be heading out now," Jason said, voice steady and calm. "Get ready before noon. I'll come pick you up, and we'll both go visit Elena."
Sophie smiled, eyes lighting up softly. "You really mean it?"
He nodded. "I gave my word. She asked about you the last time, so… it's only right you meet her properly."
Sophie's smile widened. "Okay, I'll get dressed early then."
Jason gave a small approving nod before heading out. The morning breeze brushed against his face as he stepped into the street. The Ferrari wasn't what he used today—he wanted to keep a low profile—so he went on foot, greeting familiar faces along the way. He walked into the workshop and, as usual, the metallic clatter of tools filled the air.
"Morning, boss!" one of the younger workers greeted, wiping oil off his palms.
"Morning," Jason replied, placing his bag on the bench.
He moved to his workstation and began checking the gear alignment on a car that had been left the previous day. But something felt off. Usually, Sam would already be there, talking loud, teasing, or telling half-funny stories about customers. The bench next to Jason's was empty.
He frowned slightly and turned to one of the workers. "Hey, where's Sam?"
"Oh, Sam? He's not around today," the man replied while tightening a bolt. "He took a day off. Said something about resting up."
Jason's brows rose in surprise. "Resting?" Sam hardly took breaks.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed Sam's number. After two rings, the familiar voice came through, half-laughing as always.
"Jason! The great mechanic himself finally called me! What's up, man?"
Jason smirked faintly. "You disappeared from the workshop without saying a word. You okay?"
"I'm good, bro," Sam replied, stretching mid-sentence. "Just needed a day off. My back was screaming at me after all that gearbox work yesterday. You know how it is."
Jason chuckled lightly. "I told you to take it easy on that old truck. It wasn't worth the sweat you gave it."
They both laughed for a moment. Then Jason leaned against the hood of a car. "Something weird happened this morning."
"Oh? Don't tell me Sophie finally threw you out?" Sam teased.
Jason scoffed. "No. Elena sent me money."
There was a pause on the line. "Wait—what?"
"Half a million dollars," Jason said flatly.
Sam whistled loud enough for it to echo through the receiver. "You're kidding me."
"I'm not."
"Bro!" Sam laughed in disbelief. "That's—what the hell, that's insane! She just sent you that kind of money? No strings attached?"
"She didn't say much. Just… said it was a gift."
Sam's laughter mellowed into a chuckle. "You're living the dream, man. A rich, beautiful woman sending you money before breakfast? What did you feed her?"
Jason shook his head. "It's not something I'm proud of. I didn't ask for it. I just don't want her thinking I'm after her wealth."
Sam exhaled slowly. "Jason, listen, I get what you're saying—but this isn't the street anymore. You're leveling up. You've got a stable job, a home, and two people who care about you. Maybe it's time to stop throwing punches in dark alleys."
Jason stayed silent for a moment. He could hear the truth in Sam's words, but something deep inside resisted. The rush, the fights, the underground crowd—it was part of who he was. "Maybe," he finally said, tone neutral.
"Come on," Sam continued, "you've got Elena, man. She's into you for real. You've got Sophie who believes in you more than anyone. You've got money now—thanks to your lady. You don't need to go back to the Crimson Den or any of that madness. Focus on yourself."
Jason stared at the wrench in his hand, thinking. Focus on myself. The words echoed. But he knew deep down it wasn't that simple. The Den still had unfinished business. There were debts of pride and promises that couldn't just fade because of luxury.
"Yeah," Jason murmured, "maybe you're right."
Sam chuckled again. "Maybe? Jason, for once, just take the win. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't work too hard."
"Got it. Rest well," Jason said, ending the call.
He tucked the phone away, his eyes lingering on the cars around him. The scent of oil and steel brought him peace—it grounded him more than anything. But his mind wasn't fully there. Thoughts of Elena—her smile, her warmth—mingled with the sound of Sophie's laughter back home. And somewhere between all that, a faint voice whispered from the past. Don't forget who you are.
Jason took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts aside. He picked up his wrench, rolled up his sleeves, and got back to work. He needed the distraction, the rhythm, the silence of focus.
Hours passed in the hum of the workshop. The noise of engines, the spark of metal against metal—it all faded into background music to his thoughts. And yet, under all that calm, Jason knew the system wasn't done with him. Sooner or later, the next stage would begin.
And when it did, he'd have to decide who Jason truly was—the fighter… or the man finally finding peace.