Arnold gripped the steering wheel tightly as his car sped along the road to Amber Ridge. The quiet hum of the engine did little to soothe his roiling emotions. The sudden call from Steven had brought unexpected news: Mr. Winchester, a kind-hearted man who had been like a father figure to him during his poverty training, had passed away.
Amber Ridge was a quaint, sleepy town nestled amidst rolling hills. Arnold had spent a year here during his training, living at the orphanage Mr. Winchester directed. Under the guise of a transfer from a nearby orphanage, Arnold had been placed here to learn the struggles of poverty firsthand. Mr. Winchester, who also ran a small restaurant, had treated Arnold and the other children with kindness, ensuring they had food, shelter, and guidance.
Amber Ridge hadn't changed much. The streets were quiet, lined with charming homes and small businesses, yet the atmosphere today felt different—suffused with a palpable sorrow. Arnold soon arrived at the Winchester household, a simple but cozy home with a modest courtyard.
As he stepped out of his car, his chest tightened at the sight before him. The courtyard was filled with townsfolk, their faces somber. In the center, beneath a modest canopy, lay Mr. Winchester's body.
Arnold froze for a moment, unable to reconcile the frail, lifeless figure before him with the robust, compassionate man he remembered. He had always known Mr. Winchester as someone full of life, his laughter echoing through the orphanage halls as he served meals or told stories to the children.
"Arnold!"
Arnold turned to see Steven pushing through the crowd. His face was drawn, his eyes red from crying. Without hesitation, Arnold pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Steven," Arnold began, his voice low and heavy with grief. "What happened? Mr. Winchester… he doesn't look like the man I remember."
Steven pulled back, shaking his head. "Arnold, it's been a nightmare. There's so much you don't know."
Arnold approached Benjamin, who was seated at the front, closest to his father's body. Benjamin's face was pale, his eyes hollow, as though he hadn't slept in days. When he saw Arnold, his expression softened slightly.
"Arnold…" Benjamin's voice cracked.
Arnold knelt beside him, gripping his shoulder firmly. "Ben, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how hard this is for you."
Benjamin's head dropped, tears streaming down his cheeks. "He didn't deserve this, Arnold. My father… he gave everything to this town, to the children. And now he's gone."
Arnold squeezed his shoulder. "He was a great man, Ben. He left a legacy of kindness that no one can erase."
As they sat in shared silence, the sound of polished shoes clicking against the stone path broke the moment.
A group of well-dressed men entered the courtyard, their confident strides cutting through the somber atmosphere like a knife. The townsfolk instinctively backed away, their whispers filling the air.
At the front of the group was a man in a maroon Armani suit. He surveyed the scene with a faint smirk, his polished appearance starkly out of place among the grieving crowd.
"It's such a tragedy," the man said, his voice carrying an artificial sympathy that made Arnold's blood boil. "A man like Mr. Winchester deserved better. My condolences to the family."
Benjamin stood abruptly, his body trembling with rage. "Get out of here!" he shouted, his voice breaking.
The suited man raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. "Easy there, kid. That's no way to treat guests. We're here to help."
Arnold stood, stepping between Benjamin and the man. His calm but cold gaze locked onto the intruder. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
The man smiled, extending a hand that Arnold didn't take. "Name's Garrett. I represent Pillarstone Developers. We've come to offer a little… assistance."
Arnold's eyes narrowed. "What kind of assistance?"
Garrett's smirk widened as he adjusted his cufflinks. "Well, it would be a shame to see the orphanage, this house, and the restaurant go to waste now that Mr. Winchester is gone. We're prepared to offer four hundred grand for the whole lot. It'll give you enough to cover the funeral and move somewhere fresh. Think of it as a generous favor."
Arnold's jaw tightened. "Four hundred grand? The orphanage alone is worth over a million. Add the house and the restaurant, and it's easily worth one and a half million or more. You call that generous?"
Benjamin surged forward, his voice shaking with fury. "You think you can buy us off like that? My father gave everything to this place, and you're here to pick at his bones!"
Garrett's tone turned icy. "Watch it, boy. I'm being kind here."
Arnold placed a steadying hand on Benjamin's shoulder, his voice sharp and unwavering. "We're not selling. Leave now."
Garrett's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "I'm trying to help, kid. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Arnold turned to Robert, who had been silently observing from the edge of the crowd. "Robert, get them out of here."
Without hesitation, Robert and his men stepped forward. Garrett and his entourage found themselves surrounded by a wall of muscle.
"Hey! You're making a mistake!" Garrett shouted as Robert shoved him toward the gate. "You don't know who you're dealing with! Pillarstone Developers owns this town. If you mess with us, you'll be buried under the new Amber Ridge!"
Arnold didn't flinch. His voice was cold as steel. "We'll see about that."
As the unwelcome guests were escorted out, Arnold turned back to Benjamin, his voice gentle but firm. "Ben, tell me everything. What's going on with Pillarstone?"
Benjamin took a shaky breath, his anger giving way to exhaustion. "A few months ago, a famous architect visited Amber Ridge. He saw the hill and its ecosystem and wanted to turn it into an eco-friendly tourist attraction. My father loved the idea and started looking for a developer who shared that vision."
Steven stepped forward, his expression dark. "But Pillarstone got wind of it. They didn't just want the hill—they wanted the entire town. They broke into this house and stole the designs. We went to the police, but they didn't care. Pillarstone has them in their pocket."
Benjamin continued, his voice trembling. "Then things got worse. Pillarstone offered people a fraction of what their properties were worth. When anyone resisted, they used threats and violence. Families were destroyed, Arnold. My father tried to fight them, but they wore him down. The stress made him sick… and last night, he…"
His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands.
Arnold clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The kind, selfless man who had cared for countless orphans had been crushed by the greed and cruelty of Pillarstone Developers.
"Ben," Arnold said quietly, his voice laced with fury. "You don't have to worry about them anymore. I'll handle this."
Benjamin looked up, his eyes filled with both confusion and hope. "Arnold, what are you going to do?"
Arnold didn't answer immediately. He turned to Robert, his tone commanding. "I want everything we can find on Pillarstone Developers—their leaders, their operations, their finances. Leave nothing uncovered."
Robert nodded, his expression grim. "Understood, sir."
Arnold turned back to Benjamin, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Your father's dream will live on, Ben. I promise you that. And the people responsible for his suffering will pay."
As the sun set over Amber Ridge, Arnold stood beside Mr. Winchester's body, his mind already racing with plans. Pillarstone Developers had unleashed their greed on the wrong town—and on the wrong man.