Eren Fischer adjusted his tie, the fabric slightly rough against his calloused fingers.
He wasn't used to suits, let alone the tailored designer one his father forced him to wear. But tonight was special, and his father, usually a gruff and demanding man, was practically beaming.
"A toast!" John Fischer said, raising his glass with a triumphant flourish. "To our success, to our future. Now, let's celebrate."
Eren's mother, Diana, echoed the sentiment, her eyes crinkling at the corners with an uncharacteristic joy. Sharon, Eren's younger sister with a permanent smirk plastered on her face, didn't bother raising her glass.
They were gathered in the dining room of their modest but comfortable home. The air crackled with a sense of occasion, the worn dinnerware replaced by crystal glasses and an extravagant spread of food Eren didn't recognize.
"Don't just stand there, son," his father boomed. "Sit. Tonight, we feast!"
Eren took his place at the table, the unfamiliar weight of fine silverware in his hand adding to the surreal feeling. This wasn't their usual Friday night. There were never suits, champagne, or the scent of roasted something that Eren was almost certain his mom couldn't pronounce.
"So," Sharon interrupted, twirling a strand of her vibrantly dyed hair around her finger, "Is somebody finally going to tell me what this is all about?"
John chuckled, patting Sharon's hand. "Patience, my dear. All in good time. But I assure you, after tonight, our lives will be forever changed."
Diana leaned in, her gaze sweeping over her family, resting for a moment on Eren. "Your father received news today," she said, her voice a touch softer. "News that… well, it's a miracle."
"Damn right, it's a miracle," John declared, slamming his fist down on the table, making the glasses jump. "It's the opportunity we've been waiting for. The answer we've been hoping for."
Eren, despite himself, felt a surge of excitement. His family had been scraping by for as long as he could remember. His father, a stern man with unyielding expectations, worked long hours as a construction foreman. His mother poured her energy into finding deals at thrift stores, her creativity patching up frayed clothes and filling their plates with meager yet satisfying meals.
Could their luck be changing?
"A business venture," John continued, a satisfied grin playing on his lips. "An investment. An almost…divine opportunity."
Eren looked around at his family, a flicker of doubt niggling at the back of his mind, but then he caught his mother's eye. She was smiling, a wide, unguarded smile he rarely saw. Despite his misgivings, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope growing within him.
John cleared his throat and took a sip of his champagne. "You all know how hard it's been, the sacrifices I've made, the weight I've carried. But that's all about to end. Our struggles, the worrying about bills, the scrimping... It all ends tonight." He paused, as if building suspense. "And that is thanks to Mr. Harold Steinmann."
"Who the hell is Harold Steinmann?" Sharon muttered.
"He's a visionary," Diana said, her voice filled with a reverence Eren had never heard before. "A man of tremendous talent and ambition. His work..." she trailed off, eyes distant and dreamy.
"His work is going to make us rich," John said bluntly. He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head with an air of supreme confidence. "Filthy rich, I tell you. And the best part – all we have to do is put our faith in the man."
Eren's stomach clenched. "Our faith?"
His father narrowed his eyes. "Don't you believe in a higher power, Eren? In something greater than ourselves?"
The question caught Eren off-guard. He'd long ago left behind the bedtime stories and hushed prayers of his childhood. Yet, looking back at his father's hardened face, he could see a desperation for something to believe in.
"Of course," Eren replied cautiously. "But what does that have to do with this investment?"
"Everything," his father assured him. "Mr. Steinmann's vision is…special. A blessing, one might say. This is no ordinary get-rich-quick scheme. This is about becoming a part of something bigger, taking a leap of faith that will be rewarded in ways we never imagined."
---
Eren exchanged a worried look with his mother, but she only offered a gentle smile and squeezed his hand.
John, catching the silent communication, frowned. "Do you doubt me, boy? Do you doubt this opportunity?" His voice had a harsh edge to it now, a stark contrast to the jubilant tone from moments before.
"No, Dad," Eren murmured hastily. "I'm just trying to understand. What's this investment exactly?"
"Mr. Steinmann is an innovator," John said, his tone softening slightly. "A man light-years ahead of his time. He's tapped into a new…well, let's call it a market. A vast network of potential, untapped resources, and a system designed to streamline it all." He paused for dramatic effect. "Think of it as the future, Eren. We can be on the ground floor."
Eren furrowed his brow. "I still don't..."
"Think…MLM?" Sharon interjected, rolling her eyes with a smirk on his face. "But like, on steroids mixed with super-charged algorithms and a side of divine intervention."
John glared at his daughter. "While your sister's description may be somewhat…unconventional," his tone dripped with sarcasm, "she's essentially correct. Mr. Steinmann works with something called 'Celestial Protocols' – a platform far more advanced than the investments the average person buys into. It operates on a different plane of consumerism, you see, harnessing…well, let's just say it taps into the digital currencies and stuff along those lines."
Eren, always the practical one, couldn't hide a flicker of doubt. "Sounds…complicated."
"That's why he needs investors like us," Diana cut in, a fierce determination replacing her earlier gentle demeanor. "People willing to take that chance. To believe in Mr. Steinmann's vision. He claims Celestial Protocols can revolutionize the way we interact with the world!"
John nodded vigorously. "Precisely! It takes a discerning person to recognize true potential, Eren. We've been handed a golden ticket - a chance to secure our family's future once and for all. Mr. Steinmann himself spoke of a coming transformation, a shift in the very fabric of reality, and those positioned correctly would reap unimaginable rewards."
Eren looked into his father's hopeful eyes, his mother's resolute ones. Sharon, typically cynical, had a spark of interest in her eyes too. A surge of guilt washed over him. Could he be the only one who doubted this golden opportunity?
John's words seemed to hang in the air, pregnant with promise yet laced with an unnerving uncertainty. Eren, battling a mix of skepticism and a desperate hope to ease his parents' burdens, could only manage a weak, "So, we just invest our money?"
"That's right," John beamed, relief evident in his voice. "And then we wait for our investment to multiply a thousandfold."
Unease settled in Eren's gut. This was their entire life savings – money earned from grueling hours and endless sacrifice – and the idea of betting it all on some cryptic scheme made him nauseous.
"Eren?" His mother's voice broke into his thoughts. "What are you thinking?"
Choosing his words carefully, he began, "It just seems...risky. It all sounds too good to be true."
His father scoffed. "Afraid of success, son? All great ventures carry risk. But the potential here… it'll change our lives. You need to have more faith."
The evening wore on, but the extravagant feast grew cold as Eren's concerns gnawed at him. Mr. Steinmann, Celestial Protocols, untapped resources – the words were a jumble, lacking the concrete reassurance he craved. The family he loved, usually so united in their humble existence, now felt divided by this promise of easy wealth.
The weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Money changed hands - parts of his parents' retirement fund, the small inheritance from their grandmother, almost everything they had. The Steinmann office was a sleek, intimidating space, all sharp angles and gleaming chrome. Meetings with suited representatives were laced with impressive jargon, yet short on tangible details.
At first, hope flickered. There were reports of soaring returns, cryptic graphs showcasing astronomical growth, and testimonials – always delivered with a near-religious fervor. Eren wanted to believe, wanted desperately to ease the hopeful glint in his parent's eyes. Yet, doubt persisted, a nagging whisper fueled by late-night internet searches yielding no concrete information about Steinmann or his miraculous Protocols.
Then, the phone calls began. Demanding updates, impatient inquiries – Eren was the point of contact, the 'young, tech-savvy' liaison. His parents, ever-trusting, shielded themselves with a blissful ignorance, basking in the promise of riches, while he bore the brunt of the growing tension.
The first crack appeared on a Tuesday. It was the day the bi-weekly returns report was supposed to grace their inbox – a flurry of numbers and projections that Steinmann's associates had promised would leave them breathless with awe. But that Tuesday was unnaturally silent.
"Probably just a technical glitch," Eren's father muttered over breakfast, pushing around a plate of untouched eggs. The optimism that had fueled him these past weeks was flickering, though he tried to mask it poorly.
"These things happen," Diana chimed in, but her voice lacked its usual conviction.
Eren forced himself to swallow a bite of toast. He'd already checked the spam folders, refreshed the inbox twice, the knot in his stomach tightening with each passing minute.
The day wore on with an oppressive silence. Eren paced, trying to focus on coursework, but his mind strayed to the Steinmann office, imagining empty desks and disconnected phone lines.
It was late afternoon when his father finally cracked.
"Damn it!" The roar startled them all. John hurled a newspaper across the room. "Where the hell is the report?"
"John, maybe we just need to give it time," Diana started, but her voice faltered under her husband's glare.
Eren cleared his throat. "I… I can call the office."
His father's eyes narrowed. "You do that, son. See what those slick-talking bastards have to say for themselves."
The phone rang endlessly. Each ring hammered away at Eren's fragile hope. Then, a stilted automated voice: "The number you have dialed is no longer in service…" He hung up, numb.
"Well?" John's voice was strained with a desperate edge.
Eren could only shake his head, bile rising in his throat.
His father lunged across the room, snatching the phone from him. He punched in the number, again and again, his fury growing with each unanswered ring. Finally, he slammed the receiver down, his knuckles white.
"I knew it! Damn swindlers!" he raged. "Thieving sons-of…" The rest devolved into a string of incoherent curses.
Diana watched on, tears welling in her eyes. She sank into a chair, burying her face in her hands, her sobs muffled. Sharon, for once, had nothing to say. Her usual smirk was gone, replaced by a deep frown that somehow made her look younger, more vulnerable.
John, usually the unshakeable rock of the family, stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The silence that settled in their small home was a different beast – heavy, suffocating.
---
Days bled into a blur of frantic online searches, phone calls that led nowhere, and tense, whispered arguments between his parents. John, in a desperate attempt to regain control, became obsessed with tracking down the scammers. He scoured forums, joined online support groups, and even reached out to shady figures claiming to specialize in "recovery services". Yet, each thread unraveled into a dead end, confirming their worst fears.
Diana retreated further into herself. The few errands she did undertake were mechanical, her movements robotic. Occasionally, a startled look would flash across her eyes as if she were waking from a nightmare only to realize the nightmare was her new reality.
Sharon's anger manifested as a relentless pursuit of knowledge. She spent late nights hunched over the computer, digging up everything she could on Steinmann – or rather, on the phantoms who'd posed as him. She mapped out ghost companies, untraceable transactions, and a web of aliases that stretched across the globe, each discovery fueling her rage.
Eren, in his quiet way, tried to hold the pieces together. He poured over their bank statements, the Steinmann brochures with their outlandish promises, even his own notes from those early meetings filled with vague jargon. Each document felt like a blow, a testament to their naivety. He helped his mother with chores, knowing her mind was far from the task of grocery lists and laundry, and subtly nudged his father towards seeking practical advice, however unpalatable it might be.
One evening, two weeks after the initial crack had widened into a chasm, Eren called a family meeting. The dining room table, once the scene of a celebratory feast, now bore the weight of despair. Stacks of paperwork, legal notices, and Sharon's meticulously compiled 'scammer dossier' covered its surface.
"We need to face this," Eren began, his voice surprisingly steady. "We need to accept what happened…"
John cut him off, the fight momentarily reignited in his eyes. "Accept? Like hell I will! We'll get those bastards, Eren. There's always a way…"
"Dad," Eren gently but firmly interrupted, "Sharon's right. Everything we've found shows…Steinmann was never real. It was a…" he choked on the word, "…a scam."
The silence that followed was deafening. Diana let out a small, strangled gasp, her hand fluttering to her chest. John's bullish posture slumped, the lines on his face seeming to etch themselves deeper. Even Sharon, the picture of defiant anger, looked momentarily lost.
"But… the office, the people…" Diana's voice was barely a whisper, a desperate attempt to cling to a shattered reality.
"Props," Sharon answered harshly. "Actors, fake numbers, rented office spaces. They're pros, the kind that leaves no trace."
Another crushing silence suffocated the room. The magnitude of the realization crashed down on them. They were victims, pawns in a twisted game orchestrated by people they'd never truly see.
John stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Damn them…" The fury, now tinged with despair, was quickly choked back. Head hanging, he paced to the window, staring out into the darkening street. In the reflection, Eren saw a defeated man, a far cry from the confident provider he had always known.
Diana simply sobbed, shoulders shaking, the sound tearing through Eren. He moved to her side, wrapping her in a hug, his own tears starting to flow. It was a shared moment of devastation, the final, painful shedding of denial.