Ethan sat back in his chair, watching the cursor blink on the secure transaction screen. The funds for the laundromat were prepped—segmented across three shell companies, each routing to an anonymous pooled account before the final deposit would hit the seller's attorney's escrow.
He entered the transfer authentication and clicked Submit.
Transaction Confirmed.
He leaned back, satisfied. Felicia's safehouse was now officially funded. By the time she returned, she'd have a subterranean hideout beneath an abandoned laundromat—a ghost's den built for someone who needed to disappear.
'I'll wait for her to return before making any renovation plans,' thought Ethan as a soft knock came from the suite's outer door.
"Dinner's ready," his mother called through the wood.
Ethan shut his laptop and stood. "Coming."
The table was already set when he entered. A simple spread—roast chicken, greens, and seasoned rice—filled the room with warm, comforting smells. His father was already seated, arms crossed, an amused scowl playing at his mouth. His mother looked happy barely able to contain herself.
Ethan raised a brow. "Did something good happen?"
His mother grinned. "You could say that."
His father let out a huff, clearly eager to beat her to it. "We got the settlement for our house being destroyed," he said, gesturing with his fork. "1.2 million. Finally."
Ethan's eyes widened, just a bit. "That's fantastic."
His father grumbled. "Yeah, well—after taxes. We're being taxed on damages from a battle the state couldn't prevent. It's ludicrous."
His mother gave him a light smack on the arm. "Now now, still. It's more than enough to build a new house if we wanted. At the very least, we can buy a new house."
Ethan smiled faintly, resting his hands on the table. "That's amazing. Congratulations."
"What do you mean, congratulations? It's your home too. Honestly, sweetie, sometimes you just feel so distant. We're about to start house tours this weekend," his mother sighed as she added. "Two days from now. We can get out of this hotel finally."
Ethan nodded. "Just… don't rush it."
His father gave him a curious look. "Don't want to get out of here? Do you actually like staying in a hotel?"
"No, it's not that," Ethan said evenly. "Just… make sure you find something you love. Not something that just gets us out of here quicker. I want you two to be happy… with the choice you make."
His mother smiled warmly. "You're too mature sometimes."
"I'll take that as a compliment. Maybe, I'm growing up."
They dug into dinner, laughter echoing faintly between bites. For a few minutes, it was just a family meal.
That night, Ethan lay in bed, one arm behind his head, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Thinking about the meal he just had and how… happy he felt from it. His phone then buzzed with calendar reminders, breaking his line of thought—today's moves were complete. Tomorrow was about the next link in the chain.
Amy.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting angled bars across Ethan's comforter. He dressed quickly, eating a fast breakfast before heading to Midtown High.
Classes were easy. A blur, really. The concepts came too slowly, the discussions were too shallow. His mind was already miles ahead—planning outcomes, mapping behavior, predicting reactions.
At break, he stepped into an empty stairwell and dialed Amy's number.
It rang twice.
Then: "Hello?"
Her voice was tired, groggy. But present.
"Hey Amy," Ethan said, keeping his tone soft. "You awake?"
"Barely," she admitted. "I'm still at the hospital. My parents extended the stay. Weird stuff's still happening since I can't really control my powers. At this rate, I'm afraid they might send me to a psych ward or something, maybe a government facility to be experimented on."
Ethan nodded. "That's a logical thought process, but try not to freak out. I'm sure you're parents are just scared and trying their best to make sense of the situation. Anyways, I was hoping to visit you after school."
There was a pause. "Okay…"
"I also wanted to talk to you about something," Ethan said. "Someone, actually."
"Who?"
"I think I found someone who can help you. Not just with… coping. But with understanding. Controlling your powers. Someone who's been through this before."
Amy's breath caught.
"Really?"
"Really."
He let the silence linger a moment.
"I'd like to take you to meet him. Today in the evening at 6 p.m. Just for a little while."
Amy was quiet. "I… I don't know if I can sneak out. My parents—"
"You can trust me," Ethan said gently. "You've done harder things than that, haven't you? We outran a demon, so what's a little sneak out?"
"I… I guess. But—"
"Amy," Ethan cut in, dropping his voice. "I really think this could change everything. Give you clarity. You won't have to feel like this forever. I want you to trust me." He meant it, though the word still tasted foreign to him.
Still, she didn't answer.
So he pivoted.
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it mattered," he added, his tone suddenly more concerned. "I'm worried about you. And this… this is one of the few things I can do to help. It's not for me—it's for you. I hope you'll let me help you."
She exhaled, long and slow. "That's not fair…"
"No, it's not," he agreed. "But neither is what's happening to you. We take what we can get."
A beat.
"Alright," Amy whispered. "Just for a little while. I'll try to see if I can get out on my own."
Ethan smiled. "Okay, I'll be by in the afternoon when I leave school. Don't push yourself too much to sneak out if you can't. We'll figure something out when I get there. We'll make it simple."
As he ended the call, he slid the phone into his pocket.