Episode 21
Part 89: Brother’s Counsel
Roach leaned against the doorframe of Jadon’s office, watching him with a quiet intensity. Jadon was hunched over his desk, eyes fixed on some paperwork, though Roach doubted he was actually reading any of it. The tension in the room was thick, unspoken words hanging between them like a heavy fog.
“Man, you look like hell,” Roach finally said, stepping inside and easing into the chair across from Jadon.
Jadon smirked but didn’t look up. “Appreciate the compliment.”
Roach exhaled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You know, back home, we used to talk about everything. Now? Feels like I barely know what’s going on with you.”
Jadon rubbed his temples. “Things change, Roach. Business, life… everything’s different here.”
Roach shook his head. “Nah. Life ain’t different. Just the location. You the one acting different.”
Jadon sighed heavily, finally meeting Roach’s gaze. There was no judgment in his friend’s eyes, just understanding. That was the thing about Roach… he didn’t push, but he wasn’t about to let Jadon drown in silence either.
“Talk to me, boss,” Roach said, his voice steady. “Whatever it is, I got you.”
Roach reasoned. “Don’t let Nadia break you.”
Jadon finally glanced at him, shaking his head. “Not just her. It’s everything else.”
Roach let the room settle for a moment, let Jadon sit in his own words. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Alright, Jay. Enough bullshit. What’s really going on?”
Jadon looked away, rubbing a hand over his face. “Things aren’t how they used to be, Roach. You know that.”
Roach nodded. “Yeah, I do. But that don’t mean you gotta go through it alone.”
Jadon sighed heavily, then pushed back from the desk, staring at the ceiling. “Cyrus played me,” he said finally. “Money’s gone. All of it.”
Roach straightened. “Wait… what?”
Jadon shook his head, frustration bleeding into his voice. “Cyrus. The money he put up? The investment that was supposed to back Reverie? Gone. Stolen, laundered, whatever the hell he did with it. And now, not only am I broke, I gotta come up with a way to match Malcolm’s investment or Skyline takes control of everything.”
Roach let out a slow breath. “Damn.”
“Oh, it gets better,” Jadon said bitterly. “The feds are watching him. They think I’m caught up in his shit. The agents been feeding me bits and pieces, but bottom line? Cyrus was moving money for people way bigger than him, and now, he’s gone radio silent.”
Roach rubbed his chin. “And you were in bed with this dude. We all are.”
“Deep.”
Roach sat back, processing. “Alright. So let me get this straight. Cyrus brings you in, sells you a dream, fronts you some of the money. Meanwhile, he’s using the rest of the money to pay for his own debts. Moving dirty cash… probably thought you wouldn’t notice. Now the feds are on his ass, and you’re caught in the crossfire?”
Jadon nodded. “That about sums it up.”
Roach shook his head. “Damn, Jay.”
Jadon exhaled sharply. “And on top of all that he wiped out my credit. My credit’s shot. I can’t even pull together enough capital to buy myself time. If I don’t match Malcolm’s investment, it’s over.”
Roach studied him for a moment. “And you ain’t told Malcolm yet?”
Jadon’s jaw tightened. “No.”
Roach let out a low whistle. “That’s a mistake, bro.”
Jadon frowned. “I don’t need a lecture right now.”
“This ain’t a lecture,” Roach said, leaning forward. “This is me telling you the truth. Malcolm ain’t stupid. You wait too long, and he’s gonna find out from someone else. And if that happens? Reverie ain’t yours anymore.”
Jadon looked away, jaw working. He knew Roach was right, but admitting it out loud felt like another failure.
Roach softened his tone. “Jay, you my boy. I know you. You always try to carry the weight by yourself. But this? This is bigger than you. You need Malcolm on your side, not against you.”
Jadon let out a long breath. “It’s just… I built this, Roach. And now, it feels like it’s slipping away.”
Roach nodded. “Then do what you gotta do to hold onto it. But hiding this from Malcolm ain’t the move. You tell him now, maybe he helps you. You wait? He cuts you out.”
Jadon ran a hand over his face, feeling the weight of it all. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah… you’re right.”
Roach smirked. “Damn right, I am.”
Maybe, just maybe, there was still a way out.
Part 90: The Call
Jadon sat at his desk, staring blankly at the spreadsheets on his laptop. Numbers. Just numbers. None of them meant a damn thing when the money behind them had vanished. His mind had been spiraling since his conversation with Roach, and now, he was left with nothing but a growing sense of unease.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, already prepared to ignore it. But the name flashing across it made his stomach twist. Cyrus.
Jadon’s hand hovered over the phone. Every instinct told him to let it ring out. Ignore it. Let the bastard wonder. But he knew better. Hesitation was weakness, and weakness was something he couldn’t afford. He took a breath, steadied his nerves, and answered.
“Cyrus.”
“Jadon, my man! Been a minute.”
Jadon forced a chuckle, keeping his tone even. “Yeah, it has.”
“My bad, brother. Things have been… hectic.” Cyrus’s voice was smooth, casual, as if he hadn’t completely upended Jadon’s world. “But I’ve been meaning to catch up. We should meet.”
Jadon swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. Catch up? The audacity of this man. He already knew how this would go… Cyrus would flash his effortless charm, spin a story, maybe even try to gaslight him into believing nothing was wrong. But Jadon wasn’t the same man he was a few weeks ago. He knew better now.
“Yeah?” Jadon said, keeping his voice neutral. “When?”
“Tonight. Dinner’s on me.”
Jadon clenched his jaw. On me, you mean. With a credit card you stole.
The mere thought of sitting across from Cyrus, pretending like he didn’t know the extent of his betrayal, made his skin crawl. But this was an opportunity, one he needed. If Cyrus wanted to meet, that meant he wanted something. And Jadon needed answers.
He exhaled slowly. “Alright. Where?”
“I’ll text you the spot,” Cyrus said smoothly. “Looking forward to it.”
Jadon forced a smile into his voice. “Yeah. Me too.”
Defying Caution
Jadon barely let the call with Cyrus disconnect before dialing Harp’s number. The phone barely rang before the detective picked up.
“Yeah, what up?” Harp’s voice was gruff but alert, as if he already knew something was off.
Jadon didn’t waste time. “The son of a bitch just called. He wants to meet for dinner tonight.”
There was a beat of silence, then Harp’s voice sharpened. “Where?”
“Don’t know yet, but I’ll be there.”
“Jadon,” Harp’s tone turned into a warning. “Listen to me. Don’t go near that dude. Let the feds handle it. You don’t need to be anywhere near him.”
Jadon’s grip tightened on the phone. His pulse was still hammering from the conversation with Cyrus, but his mind was clear. “No,” he said firmly. “I need to do this. I can play his game too.”
“No, the hell you can’t!” Harp snapped. “You know this guy’s dangerous, so don’t be stupid. You’re not built for this kind of… ”
“Nah, Harp. Not this time.” Jadon cut him off, his voice low but unyielding. “I’m not afraid of this guy. I’m going to look him in the eye and play his game. I’m going to take him down.”
“Jadon… ”
“I’ll message you later.”
Before Harp could say another word, Jadon ended the call. His hand lingered over the phone for a second before he exhaled sharply, setting it down.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t running. He was walking straight into the fire. Tonight, he was going to look Cyrus in the eye. And this time, he wouldn’t be the one being played.
The Setup
Jadon walked through the doors of Tony Di Napoli's with his mind set on one thing… control. He was done being blindsided, done playing the fool. Tonight, he would sit across from Cyrus Ambrose, look him in the eye, knowing what was coming.
The hostess greeted him with a polite smile.
“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?”
He barely registered her voice, his focus honed on the task ahead. “Yeah. Cyrus Ambrose.”
She nodded and motioned for him to follow. As he walked, his breath was steady, but his body thrummed with tension. He had spent the last few hours preparing for this confrontation, for the inevitable smug grin Cyrus would wear, the smooth, calculated lies he would spin. Jadon was ready.
But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.
His steps faltered the moment he spotted the table.
Cyrus sat there, just as expected, relaxed, legs crossed, the same smug expression in place. But beside him, like an apparition pulled straight from Jadon’s nightmares, sat Nadia.
Alive. Well. Smiling.
Jadon felt his pulse hammer in his throat, his vision tunneling on her. His mind struggled to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. She was supposed to be missing, possibly dead. Every sign, every clue had pointed to that. Yet here she was, dressed immaculately, a glass of red wine in hand, looking as if she had never disappeared at all.
Cyrus grinned, clearly relishing the moment. “Right on time,” he said smoothly, gesturing to the seat across from them.
Jadon barely heard him. His body was rigid, every nerve on high alert, but he forced himself to move, to not let the shock consume him. His jaw clenched as he slid into the chair.
Nadia tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she already knew the solution to. “We were just talking about you,” she said, her voice as sultry and composed as ever.
Jadon swallowed hard, his mind racing. This wasn’t just a dinner.
It was another setup.
The Betrayal
Jadon felt the air in his lungs grow thin, his pulse a deafening drum in his ears. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to flip the damn table, to put his fist through Cyrus’s smug face, to make Nadia feel every bit of the betrayal she had just dealt him.
But he didn’t.
He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Instead, he sat frozen, locking his emotions away beneath a cold, unreadable mask. His rage simmered just beneath the surface, his fists clenched so tightly under the table that his nails dug into his palms.
“Didn’t I tell you she’d be back?” Cyrus said, leaning back in his chair with that same condescending smirk, his voice dripping with amusement.
Jadon forced himself to breathe, to remain composed. Every muscle in his body was tight, coiled, ready to snap, but he wouldn’t give them the reaction they wanted. Not yet.
Nadia’s voice slithered into his ears, smooth as ever. “Jadon, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Jadon’s throat was dry, but he forced himself to speak, his voice low, controlled. “Nadia… what happened to you?”
She swirled the wine in her glass, her lips curving into something between a smirk and a sigh. “I needed to get away. Everything between us was happening too fast, and I needed to think.” She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “You were becoming too attached. Too clingy… and that didn’t sit well with me.”
Jadon flinched, but he didn’t let it show. The words slashed through him like a razor, precise and cruel. He knew what she was… a con artist, a manipulator but hearing her say it so bluntly, like he had been nothing but a fleeting amusement, was a fresh wound on top of an already gaping betrayal.
“Nadia?” It was all he could manage.
She looked at him, then away. No remorse. No second thoughts. Just distance.
Cyrus chuckled, the sound low and menacing. “I wanted to surprise you, but you don’t seem too happy. What’s up, man? You actually thought I’d let you walk away with my girl?”
Jadon exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing the fury back down, gripping onto the last thread of his composure. His voice was tight, barely restrained. “You think I don’t know what’s going on here? You actually think I didn’t figure this out? All this for money?” His jaw clenched, the fire in his veins threatening to boil over. He shook his head, a bitter smile forming. “You two deserve each other.”
Cyrus grinned wider. “I’m glad you said that, motherfucker.” He leaned in, his tone dark and mocking. “Just remember… she was your lesson, not your forever.”
Nadia turned her head, unable to meet Jadon’s gaze. Coward.
Jadon let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. He rose to his feet, adjusting his jacket, staring down at the two of them with nothing but quiet contempt. “Just remember,” he said, his voice low, steady. “Karma is also a bitch.”
He turned to leave, but Cyrus’s voice stopped him cold.
“Oh, by the way…watch your mouth. To rat on me is to rat on yourself… remember North Point,” Cyrus called out, his tone now laced with something sharper, more dangerous. “Consider our business over. I want my half a million back.”
Jadon’s blood ran ice-cold.
Cyrus leaned forward, his eyes dark with promise. “And you know how I roll… so you got one week.”
Part 91: Grave Truths
Jadon stormed out of the restaurant, his entire body vibrating with barely restrained fury. The cold night air hit him like a slap, but it did nothing to cool the fire raging inside him. He wanted blood. He wanted to go back in there, flip that damn table, and make them both pay. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching for destruction.
Instead, he walked.
For hours, he roamed the empty city streets, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. The neon lights blurred as he moved through them, his mind replaying every second of that encounter, every smug word from Cyrus, every hurtful insult from Nadia. The betrayal cut deeper than he thought possible. He had loved her. In the way a man loves his forever, in the way a man loves the idea of something real. And she had shattered that. Torn it apart like it was nothing.
His stomach twisted violently, bile rising up his throat. He barely made it to the curb before he doubled over, vomiting onto the frozen pavement. He braced himself against a streetlamp, his body heaving, the bitter taste of vomit burning his throat.
He had nothing left in him. Just a hollow, gaping void. A foreboding sense of utter defeat.
As the early morning light crept over the city, he found himself boarding a Metro-North train. He barely remembered how he got to Grand Central Station, just that he needed to move, to escape the suffocating grip of Manhattan. The train rumbled forward, the city shrinking behind him as it followed the curve of the Hudson River. He stared out at the vast, icy waters, the rhythmic clatter of the train tracks echoing in his ears.
Eventually, he stepped off in Tarrytown, Westchester County.
A silent Uber ride later, he arrived at his destination… a sprawling cemetery in Valhalla, New York that stretched as far as the eye could see. The sight of it stole his breath. It was vast, endless, each stone a story, a life once lived, now reduced to a name etched in granite.
Jadon had never been here before. Not once. But somehow, his feet knew the way. It was as if something unseen, something unspoken, was guiding him forward.
He walked, weaving through the maze of headstones, his breath visible in the frigged morning air. His pulse pounded in his ears as he slowed, then finally stopped.
Before him stood a headstone.
And for the first time since last night, the anger, the rage, the betrayal… it all fell away.
All that remained was grief.
Jadon stood frozen, staring at the headstone as if it had materialized out of thin air.
Roselyn Denise Jarvis.
Mother, wife, daughter.
Beneath her name, another inscription.
Avery Jadon Jarvis, son, grandson, little angel.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the frozen earth. His breath hitched, his fingers digging into the frost-covered ground. This was the moment he had spent the past year and a half running from, drowning in depression, burying under distractions, pretending it never happened. But here it was… unavoidable, undeniable.
The cemetery around him began to blur. A numbing sensation crept through his limbs.
And then…
The world shifted.
The biting wind of Valhalla faded, replaced by the familiar hum of an engine. Jadon blinked and found himself gripping a steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension. His heartbeat thundered as he glanced to his right.
Roselyn.
She sat beside him, her posture rigid, her eyes brimming with fury and something else… pain.
“I’m telling you, I’m not signing it,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’re not leaving me. You’re going to help me raise our son.”
Jadon swallowed hard, his throat thick. “I’m going to be there. I just don’t want this marriage anymore.”
Her eyes flashed. “Why? Because you’re messing with that bitch Lena Whitmore from work?”
Jadon’s jaw clenched. “She’s got nothing to do with this. I just think this was a mistake.”
A mistake.
The words landed like a slap.
Roselyn’s expression contorted with rage. “A mistake?”
The car jerked to a stop at a deserted T-junction. Jadon barely had time to register the shift before Roselyn exploded. She lashed out, fists flying, striking him in wild, uncontrolled fury.
“Stop it!” he shouted, trying to fend her off, his hands struggling to regain control of the wheel.
A horn blared… loud, deafening.
Then… impact.
A violent, crushing force from the passenger side. Glass shattering. Metal twisting. A scream… Roselyn’s scream… cut short.
Darkness.
The silence was suffocating.
And then… Jadon was back.
His body trembled as reality snapped into place. The icy wind cut through him, but he hardly felt it. He reached out, running a hand over the headstone, his fingers tracing the names of the people he had loved… the people he had failed.
His breath came in shuddering gasps. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His voice cracked, raw and broken. “Roz, I had it all and threw it away. I wish it were me. I miss you. I miss Avery.”
The words erupted from him in a guttural cry, echoing through the cemetery. He doubled over, grief tearing through him like an open wound. He wept, unashamed, his sobs lost in the early morning fog.
Then, a thought.
A decision.
He would stay.
Here, with them.
Let the cold take him, let the weight of his sins pull him under.
Jadon Jarvis was done with life.
