Chapter 3: Ten Million or Nothing

Hannah did not reply, and Marcus did not wait. He boarded a nearby bus instead.

Returning to the old neighborhood felt familiar and strange at once. As he climbed the stairs, an unexpected dread settled over him—the kind that came from standing this close to home again.

Third floor, Unit 302. The modest apartment his parents had left him. He had grown up here, brought Claire home as his bride within these walls, tasted sweetness and rot and rage, until revenge landed him in prison.

Now he stared at the peeling paint on the security door and felt his nose sting.

By the time he was released in his previous life, the building had long been demolished. He had owned mansions enough to fill a city block, yet inside he had felt like a ship with no harbor.

Click.

While Marcus drowned in memory, the door swung open and a middle-aged woman stepped out.

He blinked, then forced a smile. “Gordon, what brings you by?”

The woman was Claire’s mother, Gordon Vance.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t have a son-in-law as cursed as you.”

Gordon looked at him with open disgust, turned toward the stairs, then glanced back. “Marcus, if you’ve got a shred of decency left, stop dragging my daughter down. Divorce her. Now.”

When Marcus had been courting Claire, Gordon had never approved of him—mostly because he was broke.

Later, when he started a business and made real money, her attitude softened a little.

The good times did not last. A partner betrayed him. The company collapsed. Drinking and gambling took over. After that, every family visit became a shouting match. Demands for divorce became as routine as dinner.

“Gordon, I love Claire. I will never divorce her. Not for anything.”

The words hit boiling oil. Gordon exploded.

“What did you say? Love her? Please.

Claire was fooled by your sweet talk years ago, and you still have the nerve to say it?

My daughter is beautiful. Talented men lined up for her back then—lawyers, executives, men earning six figures. And you? Since Claire married you, has she lived a single good day?

A man living off his wife’s paycheck—if I were you, I’d have cracked my skull open on the pavement years ago rather than live with the shame.”

Sprayed with spit, Marcus endured the garlic on her breath and tried to explain. “Gordon, I already promised Claire I won’t gamble again. I’ll work. I’ll make real money—a lot of it—and give both of you a good life.”

“Hot air!” Gordon shouted.

“I saw through you the first day we met. A leopard doesn’t change its spots, and you can’t polish a rock into gold. You were born poor and you’ll die poor.