Chapter 5 - Thomas Vance
"Dad!" Mia cried out, running over and throwing her arms around her father's waist. "It's okay! He bought my doll! He bought the medicine!"
Thomas Vance stood frozen, looking down at his eight-year-old daughter, then at the blue bottle of medication sitting on the nightstand, and finally at Ethan Carter.
"Your daughter is a remarkably persistent young lady, Mr. Vance," Ethan said smoothly, stepping away from the bed. "My name is Ethan Carter."
Thomas blinked. The name was familiar—it was printed on the giant logistics cranes down at the port where Thomas worked twelve hours a day hauling crates.
"Mr. Carter?" Thomas said, his voice ragged from dust and exhaustion. "I... I don't understand. Mia, what did you do?"
"I took the dolls to the bank, Dad!" Mia said proudly. "The mean man said they were worth nothing, but Mr. Ethan said they were worth a hundred thousand dollars!"
Thomas’s jaw dropped. He looked at Ethan like he was speaking a foreign language. "Sir... if this is some kind of cruel joke—"
"It's not a joke, Thomas," Ethan said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card, setting it on the small kitchen table. "Your younger daughter, Lily, has a severe respiratory infection. My personal physician, Dr. Harrison, is currently on his way here with a transport team. She's going to St. Jude’s Private Wing within the hour."
Thomas staggered back a step, leaning his back against the doorframe. The sheer weight of the news seemed to crash over him—a man who had been fighting a losing battle against poverty for two long years.
"I can't pay for St. Jude's," Thomas whispered, his voice cracking, his eyes darting toward the eviction notices on the counter. "I work six days a week, Mr. Carter. I work until my fingers bleed. But the union cut our hours, the landlord is throwing us out on Friday, and I... I couldn't even buy my baby her medicine today."
Thomas covered his face with his calloused, grease-stained hands. His shoulders shook with silent, desperate sobs.
Ethan watched him. He saw a man who wasn't lazy, wasn't careless, but was simply being crushed under the cold, indifferent gears of an expensive city.
"You don't have to pay for anything, Thomas," Ethan said softly. "The medicine is paid for. The hospital is paid for. And as for your landlord..."
Ethan turned his head toward Marcus. "Marcus. Who owns this building?"
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Marcus looked at his tablet. "A holding company called Apex Real Estate, Boss. Owned by a man named Victor Vance—no relation to Thomas—who happens to be a board member at Meridian National Bank."
Ethan’s eyes narrowed into dark slits. "Call my attorney. Tell him Carter Atlas is buying Apex Real Estate by five o'clock today. The first thing we're doing is burning every eviction notice in this building."
