I remember the day we buried her, the day my world turned dark. My mom's funeral. Her side of the family showed up, mostly people I barely knew. Strangers grieving the loss of the only light I had in my life. My dad's family? Barely a few showed. Hell, nobody even knew where my dad was.
He'd disappeared. Gone. From the moment she died, it was like he'd vanished too. No one had seen him since that night.
I was clinging to Aunt Claire. She held me so tight, but it didn't feel like comfort. It felt... hollow. I was just this scared little kid, lost in a sea of grown-ups, all crying and murmuring words I couldn't understand. My body was frozen. I couldn't speak, couldn't cry, couldn't even scream. It was like I wasn't there.
I had no idea what was going on around me. The world was moving, but I was stuck. Stuck in that moment when I found her, blood everywhere.
Nights after that, I couldn't sleep. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, shaking, her lifeless face haunting me. The image of her body, still and cold, was burned into my brain. I'd cry, scream silently into my pillow. Uncle Klaus would hold me tight, trying to soothe me. But it didn't help. Nothing helped.
I stopped talking. I was this ghost walking through life, trapped in my head, my heart shattered. I was living in a world where my mom—the person who made everything okay—was gone. I barely spoke a word, and even when I did, it didn't matter.
I'd hide in Uncle Klaus's small library, reading all the books my mom used to love. Every time I'd pick one up, I'd hear her voice. Her sweet, soft voice, the way she used to read to me, how she'd hug me tight and tell me everything would be fine. But it wasn't. It would never be fine again.
I'd sit there for hours, lost in the words, but always with this ache in my chest. Tears would spill down my face, but I'd keep reading, pretending like that would somehow bring her back. But it never did. It was just me. Alone. No mom. No dad. No one to hold me when it got too hard.
People started talking. Whispering behind my back. Saying it was my dad who had her killed, that he'd run away because of it. Everyone had their theories, but no one knew the truth. I didn't even know the truth.
The police came and went. They investigated, but there were no leads. No clues. Whoever killed my mom left nothing behind, not a single trace. It was like they were a ghost. The cops were stumped, but they kept looking for my dad. They thought he'd come back. I knew he wouldn't.
---
Uncle Klaus and Aunt Claire didn't know what to do with me. They loved me, I guess, but they didn't understand. So, they handed me over to an orphanage, The Orphan Foundation on Victory Avenue.
That's where I grew up.
They enrolled me in City Public School, and I just... existed. I had friends there, sure, but no one like my mom. Nobody who really knew me. The anger inside me was growing, especially towards my dad. I hated him. I hated him for abandoning me, for leaving me alone in this shitty world with no one to hold my hand. He didn't even come to her funeral.
That's when the anger turned into something darker.
By the time I was done with school, I was lost. I got into Riverside Heights College, and that's where my life took a turn. That's where I met Bruno Westwood.
Bruno was rich. Stupid rich. The kind of guy who didn't need to think about money. And me? I didn't even have enough for lunch most days. So, I got close to him, started hanging out, and slowly... he pulled me into his world. A world of illegal shit, underground deals, drugs, violence.
At first, I had no choice. I needed the money. But then, it became a part of me. I learned fast—how to deal, how to survive. I got involved, started smuggling drugs, making deals. And before I knew it, I had my own house, my first car. I was 19, and I was already knee-deep in the underground.
After two years, I got into Redwood University. That's where things really changed. I wasn't just working for people anymore. I was running my own operations. I had my own crew, my own deals. I ruled Redwood. I earned more money than I'd ever dreamed of, but it came with a price.
And now... now you're in my life, Riya.
Logan's voice softened as he spoke, his hand gently holding Riya's.
Riya's eyes filled with empathy, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry for everything you've been through, Logan. I wish I could take away all your pain, give you back what you lost."
Logan looked at her, the vulnerability in his eyes clear. "You know, Riya... only a few people know this part of my life. To everyone else, I'm just the bad boy of Redwood. The spoiled kid who got everything handed to him. But they don't know. They don't know what it's like to lose everything. To lose the one person who made the world okay."
Riya slid her hand through his hair, gently pulling him into her embrace. "The pain you've been through, Logan... it's unimaginable. But you're still here. You survived it. And that's something powerful."
Logan leaned into her, resting his head on her chest. "You're the first person who's made me feel... whole again. After all these years, Riu, I finally feel like I have someone who gets me. Someone who cares."
Riya's voice broke as she whispered, "I'm with you, Logan. Always."
Logan pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. "I love you, Riya. I don't think I've ever said those words and meant them before, but with you... I mean it."
Tears welled in Riya's eyes as she leaned in and kissed him gently on the forehead. "I love you too, Logan."
They held each other for a long time, the weight of Logan's past heavy in the air. It wasn't just a kiss they shared; it was a moment of understanding, of healing. Logan's lips met hers softly, a slow, emotional kiss that spoke of all the things they couldn't say in words.
When they finally pulled away, Riya looked up at him, her voice soft. "Where's your dad now?"
Logan's face hardened. "I have no idea. I don't even know if he's alive. And if he is, I don't want to see him."
Riya's heart ached for him, but she knew there was nothing more to say. She stood up, taking his hand. "Show me your library."
Logan led her to a small room in the corner of the house. It was quiet, peaceful. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books. Logan walked over to one of them, running his hand along the spines.
"These were my mom's favorites," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I kept them because... they're all I have left of her."
Riya walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. "They're more than books, Logan. They're pieces of her."
Logan turned, pulling her into a tight hug. "Everything's going to be okay. You make it all okay."
---
Later that afternoon
The weather outside was crisp, the sky clear and bright. A slight breeze rustled through the trees as Zane stood in the recording booth at Holloway Music Records. He was working on his latest album, Fleeting Light.
Inside the vocal booth, the lights were dimmed, casting a moody glow over Zane as he sang the lyrics to his newest song, Stars in Our Heart.
"I look at the sky, but you're nowhere to be found, Just a star that's fallen without a sound..."
The soft guitar strummed behind him, the melancholy of the lyrics filling the room.
Soumya entered quietly, standing by the door as she listened to Zane's voice. There was something raw in his tone, a sadness that hung in the air long after the last note was sung. When he finished the verse, he turned and saw her standing there.
Zane stepped out of the vocal booth, wiping the sweat from his brow. The soft lighting of the studio reflected off the instruments scattered around the room. Soumya gave him a small smile as she approached.
"Thanks for inviting me," Soumya said, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "I've always wanted to sing, but I've never done anything like this."
Zane's expression softened as he gestured for her to sit on the stool next to him. "Don't worry, Soumya. This studio is a place where you can just be yourself. The second verse and the fourth verse of Stars in Our Heart will be yours. I sent you the lyrics yesterday, right? Did you go over them?"
Soumya nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah, I went over them, but I'm a little nervous. I haven't recorded anything before, and I really don't want to mess this up."
Zane chuckled, shaking his head. "You're not going to mess anything up. Just take it slow. This song isn't about belting it out—it's about feeling the vulnerability, the sadness. Think of someone or something you've lost. Put yourself in that space."
Soumya looked at Zane, impressed by the way he spoke about music. There was a passion in his words that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could do this.
"Okay, I'll try," she said with a nervous laugh.
Zane nodded toward the vocal coach, Paul, who was standing by the mixer. "Paul will guide you through some warm-ups. Take your time with it, and remember, this song is about emotion, not perfection."
Soumya took a deep breath and headed into the vocal booth. Zane watched her with a calm, encouraging smile.
"You've got this, Soumya," he said softly, his voice barely audible through the glass.
As she stood in front of the microphone, Soumya closed her eyes, thinking of her own struggles, her own losses. She started singing, her voice trembling at first, but as she got deeper into the verse, the emotions flowed naturally.
Zane listened carefully, his eyes closed, feeling every word she sang. When she finished, she looked over at him, waiting for his reaction.
"That was beautiful, Soumya," Zane said, his voice genuine. "You're really capturing the emotion. Let's do a couple more takes, and we'll have something incredible."
Soumya smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing. She felt seen. Zane's belief in her was contagious.
"Thank you, Zane. It means a lot to hear that from you," she said softly.
---
7 PM – Later that evening
The sky outside had turned a deep blue, the stars faintly visible as the evening set in. Logan stood in front of the large mirror in his living room, adjusting his white shirt, pulling on a sleek pair of pants. His reflection showed a man who was outwardly calm, but the storm brewing inside him was visible in the slight tremor of his hands.
There was an undeniable tension in his face. He pulled out his car keys from the drawer, took one last look at himself, and headed for the garage.
As he pulled out of the driveway, Drake, Nick, Jack, and a few others were waiting by a black Honda Odyssey parked near the gate. The air around them felt charged, and the trunk of the Odyssey was open, revealing an arsenal of guns and bullets.
Drake approached Logan's car as soon as he stepped out. "We'll be right behind you, Logan," Drake said, showing him the trunk. "If anything goes wrong, just call us. We'll be ready."
Logan gave a nod, his expression grim as he hugged Drake. "Let's do this."
He slid back into his car, his friends following close behind as they drove towards Victory Avenue. The sleek, modern buildings of the city passed by in a blur as Logan focused on what was to come. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but one name kept surfacing: Vinnie Russo.
As they approached Nexus Office—a tall, imposing building with 30 floors—Logan parked his car, his friends remaining inside their vehicle, ready to act if needed.
A guard approached him as soon as he stepped out. "Logan Cruz?"
Logan nodded. "That's me."
The guard motioned for him to follow. Logan's heart raced as they entered the building. The lift doors closed, and the guard pressed the button for the 25th floor. The silence in the elevator was thick, the only sound being the soft hum of the machinery.
When the doors slid open, a woman dressed in a sleek uniform greeted Logan. "Welcome, Mr. Cruz. Vinnie Russo is expecting you."
Logan clenched his fists. "Where is he?"
The woman smiled. "Right this way."
The guard didn't follow them; instead, he descended back in the lift. Logan followed the woman through a narrow corridor, his senses on high alert. The air felt heavy with tension, and the atmosphere was eerily calm.
As the woman opened a door at the end of the corridor, Logan stepped into a large room. The setting was luxurious yet cold, with high ceilings and expensive furnishings. Four bouncers, all dressed in black suits, stood in the corners, their guns visible, a silent threat.
In the center of the room sat Vinnie Russo, his back to Logan. He was seated in a large chair, facing away from the entrance.
"Welcome, Logan Cruz," Vinnie said, his voice carrying a mocking tone as he slowly turned around.
Logan's eyes widened in shock. His breath caught in his throat as the realization hit him like a freight train.
"Dad?" Logan whispered, his voice laced with disbelief.
Vinnie gave a slow, cruel smile. "Yes, son. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
Logan's heart pounded in his chest. "Why did you change your name?"
Vinnie's smile didn't waver. "I'm living in an alias. It's better that way."
Logan's emotions swirled, a mix of anger, confusion, and pain. "You disappeared after Mom's death. You left me alone... all these years. Why?"
Vinnie's expression hardened, his smile fading. "I hated this world, Logan. There's nothing worth sticking around for."
Logan's eyes filled with rage. "You didn't care about me. You left me with nothing. You didn't even come to her funeral!"
Vinnie waved his hand dismissively. "Stop living in the past, Logan. We're here to talk business. You owe me."
Logan's voice trembled with fury. "You're a fucking liar, Dad. You're the biggest drug dealer in the country, and we had no idea!"
Vinnie's eyes turned cold. "Don't you dare talk to me like that. You owe me 125 million dollars. Either you pay me, or I'll kill everyone you care about."
Logan's voice cracked as he tried to contain his emotions. "You don't care about me. You never did."
Vinnie leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "I only care about money, Logan. Family doesn't mean shit to me. You've got 60 days. Get me my money, or I'll end your friends one by one."
Logan's hands trembled with fury. "You... monster."
Vinnie stood, his voice dripping with venom. "Now get the fuck out of my office."
Logan turned to leave, his chest heaving with anger, but Vinnie's next words stopped him in his tracks.
"Do you want to know why I killed your mother?"
Logan froze, his blood turning to ice. He spun around, his voice shaking. "What did you just say?"
Vinnie laughed, a dark, sinister sound. "She found out about my business. She was going to rat me out to the cops. So, I took care of it. Shot her before she could ruin everything."
Logan's world tilted on its axis. His knees buckled as he stared at Vinnie in disbelief. "You... killed her?"
Vinnie's laughter echoed through the room. "Of course, I did. And I'd do it again if I had to."
With a roar of rage, Logan lunged at Vinnie, punching him square in the face. His fists flew, each punch fueled by years of pain, betrayal, and anger. Vinnie's guards rushed in, dragging Logan off their boss, holding him back as he struggled to break free.
Vinnie wiped the blood from his lip, still smiling. "Enjoy your 60 days, Logan. Make the most of them."
The guards tossed Logan out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He stumbled into the hallway, his heart pounding, tears streaming down his face.
He fell to his knees, his fists clenched tight, and screamed at the top of his lungs. "I'll fucking kill you, Vinnie Russo! I'll kill you!"
But the only response was the cold, empty silence of the corridor.