The Shadow Tycoon
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 11
A smug, victorious smile played across Michael’s face as he strolled into the room. He glanced at William, sitting on the edge of the bed, hooked the corner of his mouth, and let out a pair of low chuckles.
He did not know why he had laughed out loud just then. Maybe it was a kind of showing off.
He did not know. Casually, he flicked open the front of his overcoat, revealing the leather wallet clipped inside his pocket, his identification visible on it. “IRS. We received a report that an illegal transaction just took place here. We’re going to conduct a search...”
This time it was not just Michael and his partner. Several others had come with them, and at Michael’s signal they immediately began searching the room.
Michael walked over and sat down beside William. Looking at this young man who had once made him feel a brief flicker of fear, he said with a half-smile, “Last time I sent a kid about your age to prison, he was still mouthing off, said it would just be a vacation for him.”
“He thought prison wasn’t scary at all. Do you know what happened to him after that?” He deliberately said things that put a chill in the air, warning William.
Then, halfway through, Michael stopped talking.
Because he suddenly realized the young man in front of him showed not the slightest sign of unease or fear after hearing any of it.
He was as calm as he had been from the start, composed, steady, and that made Michael feel humiliated instead, as though he were some clown spouting ridiculous lines for other people’s amusement.
He was being looked down on again.
His face darkening by the second, he let out a low snort and decided not to say another word. Once they found the evidence, this bastard would cry soon enough.
Except...
Why had they still found nothing?
Watching his men begin another sweep from the doorway, Michael suddenly felt his scalp tighten. He realized something. He shot William a sidelong glance, then strode into the inner room at once.
The place was not large. Strictly speaking, it only had two areas, the corridor joined to the front door and bedroom, and a washroom with a wardrobe.
There was nothing overly complicated in the washroom. An open wardrobe, an ironing board his men had already lowered, a small storage box with odds and ends inside, a basket for washed clothes.
Further in was a small shower area, and beyond that the toilet. A handcart sat carelessly across the middle of the washroom.
“Where’s the money?” he barked. Every one of those kids had said William put the money in the box and pushed it into the washroom on the cart, but from the look of things now ... that did not seem to be the case.
Two of his men looked embarrassed and shook their heads. “Sorry, boss. We didn’t find anything.”
“The crate?” he asked, clinging to the last thread of effort. “Is the crate still here?”
One of them pointed to the wooden box resting on the ironing board. It was completely empty, nothing inside.
Michael pressed both hands over his face and rubbed hard, then yanked at his own hair. Hands on his hips, he paced back and forth a few steps. Then, suddenly half-hysterical, he strode over, grabbed the crate, and slammed it to the floor.
The shattered box made him think of the look in William’s eyes, that look that seemed to be mocking him. He rushed back out, seized William by the collar, and hauled him up. “Where’s the money? Where did you hide that five thousand dollars?”
He was roaring now, rage eating away at his reason. Twice. He had been made a fool of twice by this kid. No one had ever dared treat him like this.
William still wore that faint smile. He looked at Michael with calm, steady eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you added up everything on me, I don’t even have five hundred dollars. I don’t know where you got that information, but clearly it’s wrong.”
To hell with that. Michael had watched those newsboys bring the money in with his own eyes. In less than two minutes, William had not even stepped out of the room. So where had he hidden it?