My Brother Paid Me $200k A Year To Forget What He Did To Our Sister On Sub-Level 4
👉 Previous Decision: You chose to contact Uncle Stefan immediately with the note’s details.
The sunrise painted the Chicago skyline in shades of gray as I sped towards Uncle Stefan’s small brick house on the South Side. The note, clutched tight in my hand, felt like a burning coal. I skipped my morning shift, ignoring the buzzing phone in my pocket.
Uncle Stefan, 74 years old, sat at his kitchen table, a half-eaten bowl of oatmeal before him. His face, a map of wrinkles and old scars, tightened as I spread the note on the worn linoleum.
His weathered hands, spotted with age, trembled slightly as he picked up the paper. He read my frantic handwriting, his lips moving silently, and a low groan escaped his throat.
“Marcus,” he murmured, his gaze distant. “That boy. I knew he was getting too close.”
He pushed himself up from the table, his movements slow but deliberate. He walked to a cluttered workbench in his basement, the air thick with the smell of sawdust and old paper.
From beneath a pile of ancient car parts, he pulled out a rusted metal filing chest. The lock gave a protesting screech as he forced it open.
“OmniTech Solutions,” Stefan said, pulling out a faded ledger. “It was launched forty years ago. Not with venture capital, Julian. With Moretti family loan-shark money.”
He tapped a shaky finger on a page filled with neat columns of numbers. “Marcus, he was placed there. Not for tech. For oversight. To keep the syndicate bosses clean, to scrub their mistakes.”
My throat felt dry. The pieces clicked into place, grotesque and chilling. This wasn’t just about Maya; it was a deep, buried secret, a web stretching back decades.
Stefan’s eyes met mine, filled with a deep, weary regret. He reached into the chest again, pulling out a yellowed index card.
“There was a technician,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Clara Hennessy. Head of the Sub-Level 4 project for a while. She vanished five years ago, just after Maya… after your sister went into the facility.”
He pushed the card across the table. It had a handwritten address, faded but legible. “She knows things, Julian. Things that Marcus would kill to keep hidden.”
➡️ Read CHAPTER 4 to continue the story
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