Episode 20

Part 85: Shadow Dealings 

City Island, the Bronx. The cool night air carried the scent of saltwater from the Sound, mingling with the faint aroma of fried seafood drifting from a nearby restaurant. Streetlights cast a dim orange glow along the quiet road where two vehicles idled, parked side by side in opposite directions. Their drivers’ side windows were rolled down, allowing for an unobstructed conversation between the occupants.

Harp rested his arm on the doorframe, fingers drumming lightly against the metal. Across from him, Hernandez leaned back in her seat, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting casually on her lap. Their eyes met under the glow of passing headlights from a distant car.

“So, how’d it go?” Harp asked, voice low and measured.

Hernandez exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “Better than expected. Your guy’s in over his head, but he’s assisting with the investigation.”

Harp nodded. “He’s a good guy, just in a bad spot.”

Hernandez studied him for a moment. “So what’s the deal between you and Mr. Jarvis, anyway?”

A small smile tugged at Harp’s lips as he glanced toward the water. “We go back years. Close friends in middle and high school. When I moved down here from upstate, he looked out for me. He’s got a good heart.”

“I guess so,” Hernandez said, arching an eyebrow. “Because you never call me anymore. It had to be important for your ass to call. Since I left NYPD, you ghosted me.”

Harp smirked. “You know it ain’t like that. We broke up, and then you went and got married.”

“Oh yeah,” Hernandez said with a playful grin. “There was that.”

They both chuckled, the tension between them easing for a brief moment before Hernandez’s expression turned serious again. “But seriously, Harper, I’m doing you a favor, and your boy is helping our investigation. It’s a win win.”

“I know,” Harp said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I appreciate it. I’ll keep him in line. But he really wants answers.”

“Well, he got ‘em.” Hernandez’s voice hardened. “Like I told you over the phone, we told him what we know. His boy Ambrose stole his identity and opened phony businesses under his name. He then used those businesses to borrow money from various banks totaling over two million dollars.”

Harp exhaled sharply. “So where’s the money going?”

Hernandez glanced over her shoulder before lowering her voice. “To paying off his debt.”

Harp’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Debt to who?”

Hernandez sighed. “A year ago, our agency busted a money and drug smuggling operation going through JFK. We grabbed over $3 mil. Before that, we knew cash was coming into the country through couriers, but we weren’t catching enough people to make a dent.”

Harp scoffed. “Who handled screening? Don’t tell me you left it to Customs?”

“You got it,” Hernandez replied, shaking her head. “At that point customs was taking the lead.”

“That’s bull,” Harp muttered. “You know how they operate.”

“Exactly. And they’re still operating the same bias nonsense.”

“Exclusively screening non-citizens entering the country.”

“Bingo.” Hernandez nodded. “So we stepped in and arrested a ring of mostly U.S. citizens… people paid to fly down to the islands, vacation in high-end resorts for a few days, and smuggle cash back. Baggage handlers at both ends were in on it.”

Harp rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing. “And let me guess… the couriers were mostly white middle class?”

Hernandez gave him a knowing look. “Yeah. They typically evade detection.”

“A damn shame in this day and age,” Harp muttered.

“But we do know that we disrupted their operation. We think Ambrose is in charge of getting the money out of Barbados and laundering it here. What we haven’t figured out is where the money goes after Ambrose washes it.”

Harp straightened, changing gears. “What about the Gibson woman? I suspect she’s part of the ring.”

“We think so too,” Hernandez admitted. “My partner and I are tracing her whereabouts.”

“Good.”

Hernandez hesitated before leaning forward slightly. “Harp, keep your boy in line. If he screws up, my partner Flannigan will make his life hell. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Harp gave her a small nod. “I hear you.”

Hernandez held his gaze a moment longer, then tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. “When I know more, you’ll know more.”

“Appreciate it,” Harp said, his voice low.

With that, Hernandez put her car in gear and slowly pulled away, disappearing into the quiet Bronx streets. Harp remained in place for a few seconds, eyes fixed ahead, thoughts racing. He had his answers but they only led to more questions.

Part 86: The Weight of the Past

The loft buzzed with creative energy, a stark contrast to Jadon’s inner turmoil. Music played softly in the background, a mixture of laughter and conversation filling the space as the others worked tirelessly on their respective projects. Despite Jadon’s absence, life continued, success inching closer for all of them. Nikki, in particular was preparing for her move to Hollywood, her big break just on the horizon.

But something gnawed at her, something she couldn't ignore.

Jadon had been missing from the common space all day. She hadn’t seen him since their brief, tense exchange that morning. She knew he needed space, but she also knew him well enough to recognize when he was sinking too deep into his own mind.

Steeling herself, she approached his door and knocked lightly. No answer. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she slowly pushed the door open.

The room was dim, shadows stretching along the walls. Jadon lay on his back in bed, one arm clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling as if searching for answers among the plaster.

“Jay,” she whispered.

No response.

She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside and easing onto the bed beside him, mirroring his posture as she lay on her back, eyes fixed on the same blank ceiling.

“You know,” Jadon finally spoke, his voice distant, hollow. “When I lost my wife and son, I thought my life was over. It took over a year to even think about rejoining the world. It was hard. I started to find solace, to find some kind of peace. I never expected to fall for anyone. It was the last thing on my mind.”

Nikki’s heart clenched at his words. She turned her head slightly, glancing at him before returning her gaze upward. “Jay, what happened to your family is beyond tragic. But baby, it’s not your fault. You have to see that. You’re a good man. The best of us. And I just know they’d want you to move on.”

Jadon’s jaw tightened. “Nikki, this is karma at its best. There’s no way around it, and I know I deserve it. Trust me.”

Nikki exhaled sharply. “Unfortunately, there are fucked-up people in this world. People with their own shit who feel the need to project onto others. I swear, some people just like to watch things burn. You ran into one of them. Man, if I knew she was that messed up, I would’ve done something.”

Jadon shook his head slightly. “What could you do that you didn’t already do? You warned me. I was too blind to see it.”

“You were vulnerable, Jay.”

“Maybe,” Jadon murmured. “But I should’ve known better.”

A silence stretched between them, thick and unspoken. Nikki finally sat up and glanced at him with determination.

“So what now? You gonna just lay here feeling sorry for yourself?”

Jadon let out a dry chuckle. “There’s a lot more to it. I have a lot on my mind.”

Nikki smirked. “The best way outta this is to get back to work. We have to build Reverie. That should be your priority. Let Nadia go.”

Jadon turned his head to look at her. “Nikki, why do you even care so much?”

She grinned. “Because I know a good guy when I see one. And I know you care about us. You’ve already proved that. So I’m here for you, bro. That simple.”

She got up, stretching slightly before walking to the door. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder with a playful smile. “I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving Jadon alone with his thoughts.

He knew she was right. He had to focus on Reverie.

But how?

Part 87: The Pulse of Progress

Malcolm had been in this game long enough to know when something was working. And this? This was working.

The loft was alive with creative energy… real, tangible, electric. The kind that couldn’t be faked, couldn’t be forced. It was raw, born from ambition and hunger. Malcolm stood at the edge of the studio, watching the artists work, his arms crossed as he took it all in. It was an impressive sight. Hell, more than impressive, it was rare.

This ensemble wasn’t just talented; they were driven. More than that, they had each other’s backs. That was the real magic. Too many acts fell apart because of egos, infighting, or distractions. But these kids? They were different. They moved as a unit. They were building something bigger than themselves.

He spotted Lyric and Marcus off to the side, running through a setlist. The two had been tearing up the club scene, their names spreading like wildfire through social media. They had an undeniable presence, a natural charisma that pulled people in. Malcolm had seen it firsthand… how the crowd reacted when they hit the stage, the way their music was already shaping the underground sound of the city.

Malcolm smirked as he approached them. "Y’all out here making me look good," he said, voice laced with approval.

Marcus grinned, adjusting his mic. "We just getting started, man. This city’s eating up what we bringin’."

"No doubt," Malcolm nodded. "Keep that momentum. Y’all got something special… don’t let up."

Across the room, Crystal was deep in conversation with one of her handlers. She was being carefully molded, guided toward a breakthrough that Malcolm knew was inevitable. She had the voice, the look, the presence. All she needed was the right push at the right time.

And then there was Nikki. Out of all of them, she was the one Jadon worried about the most. But from what Malcolm saw, she was handling herself just fine. Hollywood was calling, and she was ready to answer. She had the kind of fire you couldn’t teach… fearless, magnetic, the kind of personality that could light up a room without even trying. She wasn’t just going to survive out there; she was going to own it.

Jadon should’ve been here to witness it all. Instead, he was slipping.

That’s what bothered Malcolm the most. He’d known Jadon long enough to read the signs. The guy was barely keeping it together, drowning in whatever the hell was eating him up inside. Malcolm wasn’t the type to coddle, but he also wasn’t about to stand by and watch someone he respected fall apart.

Spotting Jadon lingering near the back, Malcolm made his way over. Jadon was present but detached, like he was watching everything from behind a thick pane of glass.

"Ain’t like you to be standing in the shadows, Jay," Malcolm said, voice low enough so the others wouldn’t catch it. "You good?"

Jadon exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Just got a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, I can see that. And I can see these artists movin’ without you. You gonna tell me what’s up, or do I have to drag it outta you?"

Jadon offered a half-hearted smirk. "Nothing you don’t already know."

Malcolm sighed, shaking his head. "Man, listen. You built this. You handpicked every single one of ‘em. And look at ‘em… thriving. Lyric and Marcus got the streets on lock. Crystal’s about to blow. Nikki’s on her way to Hollywood, and she’s got a real shot. This ain't just some hobby or experiment anymore. This is Reverie, Jay. This is legacy shit."

Jadon nodded, but Malcolm could tell it wasn’t sinking in the way it should. The weight he was carrying wouldn’t let it.

"I get it," Malcolm continued. "Shit happens. Life kicks your ass when you least expect it. But you think you’re the only one carrying scars? You think you get to just check out? Nah. Not when people are depending on you. Not when you got something real in front of you."

Jadon let out a bitter laugh. "And what if I’m just too fucked up to do this?"

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "Then get unfucked. ‘Cause I ain’t gonna sit back and watch you waste what you’re building. You wanna grieve? Fine. You wanna be angry? Go ahead. But don’t you dare disappear on these people. They believe in you. They need you in the fight."

Silence stretched between them. Jadon stared at the ground, jaw tight, lost in thought. Finally, he looked up, something shifting in his expression.

"You ever think I might not be the guy for this anymore?" he asked, voice quieter than before.

Malcolm scoffed. "Not once. But if you keep acting like a ghost, someone else is gonna step up. And I don’t think you’ll like that."

Jadon exhaled, rubbing his face before nodding. "Yeah. You’re right."

"Damn straight I am." Malcolm clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "So get your shit together, boss. ‘Cause Reverie ain’t waiting on nobody."

Jadon nodded again, this time with more certainty. Malcolm wasn’t sure if he was fully convinced yet, but it was a start. And a start was all they needed.

For now.

Jadon knew Reverie was thriving on the surface… momentum building, the artists making waves, the buzz around them growing louder by the day. But beneath the excitement, an uncomfortable truth threatened to unravel it all. The company was broke. Worse than that, it had no lifeline, no safety net, no steady stream of funding to keep it afloat. Every dollar had dried up, and the man responsible for siphoning Jadon’s finances had vanished into silence.

Cyrus Ambrose.

Jadon knew better than to act impulsively. Confronting Cyrus outright would be reckless… he needed to be smart, to move strategically, to play along just enough to uncover his next move. But that wasn’t his only problem. His partnership with Malcolm Chambers, CEO of Skyline Entertainment, came with a hard, unavoidable reality… he had to match Malcolm’s investment, dollar for dollar. That was the deal. And if he failed? Skyline would absorb Reverie without hesitation, turning his dream into just another corporate acquisition.

Jadon had fought too hard for this, sacrificed too much. The thought of losing control now was unbearable. But with his credit shot and no capital to leverage, he was cornered. He needed a solution, and fast… because in this business, hesitation was just another way to lose.

Part 88: House of Cards

Detective Harper was midway through his usual Saturday routine, black coffee in one hand, a newspaper folded under his arm, and the faint hum of the city filling the quiet corners of his mind. The familiar rhythm of normalcy was a rare luxury in his line of work, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to enjoy it.

Then his phone buzzed.

A single glance at the screen shattered any illusion of a peaceful morning.

Sandra Hernandez: We found her.

His breath hitched, fingers tightening around the coffee cup as his mind raced. He didn’t need more details to know exactly who ‘her’ referred to. It had been a week since the meeting… one week of silence, of waiting, of running over every possibility in his head. And now, it was real.

He exhaled sharply, set his cup down on the table, and stood. His morning was over.

*****

JFK International Airport buzzed with the usual symphony of rolling suitcases, muffled announcements, and the chatter of hurried travelers. Jadon and Nikki walked side by side, moving aimlessly through the terminal after she checked in, stretching out these last few moments before she had to go.

Nikki exhaled, glancing around before flashing a small, almost disbelieving smile. “Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

Jadon smirked. “I find that hard to believe. You always knew this was your path.”

“I guess… but knowing it and actually living it? Those are two different things. Two different feelings, you know?”

Jadon nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

She glanced at him, hesitation flickering across her face. “I still don’t know why you won’t just fly out there with me. At least for a few days?”

He shook his head, hands slipping into his pockets. “Nah, I have to be here. Things to do.”

Nikki studied him for a moment before sighing. She knew better than to push, but the weight of everything he’d done for her settled in her chest.

“Jadon… thank you.”

His brow lifted slightly. “You’re welcome.”

“No,” she pressed, shaking her head. “You don’t even know what you’ve done for me. You saved me from obscurity. All of us. I won’t let you down.”

Jadon’s gaze softened. “Nikki, it was never about me. Your talent and tenacity got you to this point. Now go and make it happen.”

She grinned, eyes glistening with unshed emotion. “I will, Jay. I will.”

Without another word, they stepped into an embrace… longer than usual, unspoken words exchanged in the quiet space between them. Their way of saying love you without ever having to.

Nikki pulled away, flashing him one last smile before slipping into the winding TSA line. Jadon watched her go, hands still tucked in his pockets. When she finally disappeared beyond the checkpoint, he turned on his heel and headed toward the parking lot, the weight of his own unspoken burdens pressing down on him with each step.

*****

Glenn Island Park, New Rochelle, NY. The parking lot was nearly deserted, bathed in the dim glow of scattered streetlights. Harp pulled in cautiously, his headlights sweeping over the cracked pavement and empty picnic tables. At night the place reeked of secrecy, the kind of spot meant for stolen moments and hushed conversations.

In the distance, a pair of headlights flashed twice. Hernandez.

Harp pulled up alongside her car and rolled down his window, smirking. "We gotta stop meeting like this. I mean, where in the hell is this place anyway?"

Hernandez arched a brow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Come on, Harp, I know you recognize a good make-out spot when you see one."

Harp chuckled. "Aren’t we too old for that? A room and a bottle of wine works for me."

They shared a quiet laugh, the night air carrying the sound before settling into silence. But business always came first.

"So, what you got?" Harp asked, leaning slightly against his steering wheel.

Hernandez's expression turned serious. "She was apprehended in Miami entering from Grand Cayman."

Harp let out a low whistle. "Hmmm… I guess she had some banking to do."

"And then some," Hernandez replied. "First, she traveled through Puerto Rico and connected to Grand Cayman. Where she made a deposit of $1.5 million."

Harp whistled again, shaking his head. "Damn."

"But get this," Hernandez continued, her voice edged with intrigue. "She decided to hide out there. Ditched her phone, changed her number. Didn’t want to be found. But after some digging, we found out she made the deposit into her own account."

Harp’s eyes narrowed. "She stole from them."

Hernandez nodded. "Yup. Looks like she was gonna lay low here in the States."

"So, wait. She went through Puerto Rico… a U.S. territory… and entered Florida without a visa? How?"

Hernandez tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. "Here’s where it gets interesting. She traveled on a Barbados-issued passport. Diplomatic credentials. She’s had it for years. She’s been making frequent trips in and out of the country, always coming back to the U.S., and her final stop is usually Grand Cayman."

Harp exhaled slowly, his mind piecing together the puzzle. "She’s a courier."

"A very important one," Hernandez confirmed. "Looks like she and Ambrose take turns making deposits."

Harp leaned back against the headrest, staring at her. "Are you thinking what I’m thinking?"

Hernandez's lips pressed into a thin line. "That this is bigger than those two?"

"Exactly," Harp muttered. "Diplomatic credentials aren’t just handed out. That means they have people inside the government."

Hernandez nodded. "We have a pretty good idea who they’re working for. Turns out, the agency’s been watching this guy for a while. But this break? It gives us a clearer picture of how his operation runs. The money we caught at JFK was just the tip of the iceberg. He’s been running his network through the region and South America for years, all while staying under the radar. His only mistake? The rapid expansion of his businesses."

Harp smirked. "Greed will do that." He rubbed a hand over his face. "So what now?"

Hernandez glanced over her shoulder, scanning the darkened lot before meeting his gaze again. "We now have an informant working on the inside. Once we gather enough evidence, we’ll make the arrest."

Harp frowned. "How much time are we talking?"

"It’s imminent. Just tell your guy to sit tight."

Harp sighed, gripping the steering wheel. "Look, do me a solid. Work something out for him… some kind of immunity and protection from those loans. He’s a victim in this mess."

Hernandez studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I hear you… I’ll see what I can do."

Harp exhaled, the weight of the situation settling in. Jadon had gotten himself tangled in something bigger than he’d ever imagined. Now, the only thing left to do was wait and hope that when the house of cards fell, Jadon wouldn’t be crushed underneath it.