Chapter 12: The Paradise club
The evening sun cast a warm hue over the house as the car pulled into the driveway.
A sleek delivery van was already parked outside the gate, its back doors open, revealing neatly packed boxes. The delivery staff respectfully greeted Miles as he stepped out of the car.
"Mr. Sterling, your items from Star Central Mall," the man said with a slight bow, clipboard in hand.
Miles nodded and signed without hesitation. "Thanks. You can leave them inside the front hall."
Elena helped usher the twins out of the car while Ethan began helping the staff unload.
Hope and Asher, their eyes gleaming, immediately recognized the delivery boxes.
"Big bro, is that... is that all for us!?" Asher gasped, clutching his tiny backpack with excitement.
Miles chuckled as he patted his head. "Some for you, some for Hope, and a little surprise for Daniel too."
Hope squealed and tugged her brother’s hand. "Come on! Let’s open it!"
The twins ran inside ahead of everyone, their laughter echoing through the house. Boxes were quickly opened, revealing toys, clothes, books, and even a pair of matching superhero costumes. Asher immediately threw on a cape and ran in circles pretending to fly, while Hope clutched a plush unicorn to her chest and twirled like a ballerina.
"Look, Big Bro! I’m flying to the moon!" Asher shouted, nearly knocking over a lamp.
Hope giggled, holding out a sparkly pink dress. "Can I wear this to school tomorrow, please?"
Miles leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching them with a soft smile.
Elena came up beside him, resting her hand gently on his arm. "You’re giving them a childhood full of love, Miles... the kind you never had."
He didn’t reply. He didn’t have to.
For now, everything was right.
Paradise Club — Private Room, Late Evening
A haze of expensive cigar smoke curled under the crimson chandelier, casting flickering shadows across the velvet walls. The Paradise Club —a sanctuary for the city’s elite—was silent, except for the low hum of jazz and the murmurs inside one of its most secure rooms.
A tall, sharp-suited man sat in the leather armchair, his fingers rhythmically tapping against a crystal glass half-filled with scotch. His eyes, cold and calculating, stared at the man kneeling before him.
"Talk," he commanded.
The informant, drenched in sweat despite the air-conditioned room, swallowed hard. "Sir, as you asked... we tried digging into the boy who’s been seen with Elena Keller."
He paused. The silence made him tremble.
"And?" the man asked, his voice like ice.
The informant continued quickly. "We tried running his face through Townhall’s facial recognition. But... the moment the scan completed, a hidden security protocol activated. Sirens triggered. Within an hour, President’s personal security detail arrived and took our man straight to the Capital."
"The Capital?" The man’s grip on the glass tightened.
The informant nodded, panic in his voice. "We haven’t heard from him since. Zero contact. It’s like he vanished into a black site."
A tense silence.
"What else?"
The informant hesitated, then added, "We sent a small team to follow the boy. Three men. Trained ones."
"And?"
"...They vanished, sir. No signals. No bodies. Nothing. Just... gone."
The man slammed the glass down on the table, scotch sloshing over the sides.
"The President’s involved? Who the hell is this boy ?!"
He stood now, pacing in slow, deliberate steps.
The informant hesitated again before continuing, "There’s another problem. They’ve discovered Daniel’s coma was... induced. If Daniel wakes up..."
"No. That can’t happen. Not now."
The informant whispered, "If the Big Boss finds out what’s unfolding... the boy, the President’s involvement, Daniel’s condition..."
The man stared at the wall, his voice low but full of dread.
"He’ll be furious. He’s been planning this for years. Everything’s beginning to spiral."
Cut to black.
Early Sunday Morning – City Park
The sky was painted in hues of amber and blue. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees as Miles jogged through the winding trails of the park, his breaths steady, muscles relaxed, mind sharp.
The city was quiet, the kind of peaceful only Sunday mornings could bring. Birds chirped. Dogs barked in the distance. Somewhere, kids were laughing.
Suddenly, Miles’s phone vibrated in his waistband. He slowed his pace, pulled it out, and checked the screen.
Monica.
He answered without stopping completely."What is it?"
Her voice was urgent but composed."Sir, a lot just came in. We’ve been busy through the night."
Miles slowed to a walk, jaw tightening."Talk."
"We’ve captured every man ordered to tail you in the past two days."A pause."They didn’t last long under interrogation. Once the techniques kicked in, they broke."
"Names?"
"Damien Paul."She continued, voice sharper now."Owner of the Paradise Club on the city’s edge. Local mafia. Runs operations for money—guns, surveillance, blackmail. A hired hand, not the brain."
Miles clenched his jaw.
"And?"
Monica dropped the real bomb."We also got the Townhall employee who ran your face through facial recognition."
Miles stopped walking.
"How?"
"Our agents got to him first—disguised in Presidential security uniforms. We took him before the actual security detail arrived. He talked. Said the scan triggered a siren because of a hidden alert protocol... and he also mentioned one thing."
Miles stayed silent, waiting.
"The Paradise Club."
A silence hung.
Monica continued,"There’s more. The drug used to induce Daniel’s coma... we traced the import paperwork."
Miles’s voice was cold now."Where did it come from?"
"The listed factory doesn’t exist. Just a shack—used once to verify an offshore account. But we tracked the money trail... long, complex laundering routes, shell companies—typical."
Miles exhaled slowly, dark energy brewing beneath his calm.
"And the name tied to the transaction?"
Monica didn’t hesitate. "The Paradise Club."
Miles stood still in the middle of the path, the sunlight casting long shadows over his frame. His phone pressed against his ear, but his mind was miles away—flashing through everything like puzzle pieces falling into place.
His jaw clenched. His eyes burned with a cold fury.
They didn’t come after him because of who he was ...They came because he wasn’t part of the plan.He was the disruption. The unknown. The threat.
And worse—the real targets weren’t him at all.
They wanted to keep Daniel silent.They were watching Elena.Following Hope and Asher.
His family.
Miles’s breath slowed. His anger didn’t flare like wildfire—it boiled like lava, slow, quiet, unstoppable.
He finally spoke, voice low and razor-sharp.
"Monica... the target was never me."A pause."They only came after me because I disrupted the plan."
"Understood, boss."
Miles’s voice hardened, every word cutting like steel.
"Increase the security at the hospital. If they used a drug to keep Daniel in a coma, they definitely don’t want him to wake up.""Run background checks on every single hospital staff member. Every nurse, every janitor, even the guy selling coffee. Leave nothing unchecked."
"I’ll alert our team. Dr. Reyes will be warned personally." Monica speaks.
He nodded, pacing slowly, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders like a second skin.
"While I’m away... I want eyes on my family. I want a detail assigned to my mother and the twins."He paused."Ask Captain Ken from the Phoenix Clan to meet me. Soon."
"On it, boss. He’s just a call away. We are also monitoring the Paradise club"
Miles hung up, slipping the phone back into his pocket, hands balling into fists at his side.
He looked out across the park, jaw tight.
If they wanted a war, they had just knocked on the wrong door.
The air was still. A few birds chirped in the distance. The street was mostly empty, drowsy in the early Sunday hours.
Miles jogged at a steady pace, his breaths even, his mind calculating everything he’d just learned. But as he turned a corner, he came to a sudden halt.
A group of five young thugs—cocky, loud, the kind that thought the streets were theirs—had a teenage girl cornered against a wall. She looked terrified, clutching her schoolbag as they jeered and mocked her.
Miles’s eyes narrowed.
He walked straight toward them, his calm steps catching their attention.
"Are they bothering you, little sis?" he asked, voice smooth, almost casual.
The girl didn’t hesitate. She ran behind him, clutching his sleeve."Please help me..." she whispered, shaking.
One of the thugs stepped forward, sneering.
"Don’t come between our affairs, man. You don’t know who you’re messing with."
Another laughed, cracking his knuckles."Our boss is just around the corner. You wanna make him mad? He’ll ruin your life. So be a good boy, say sorry, and scram. We’ll even leave your bones unscathed."
Miles tilted his head slightly, lips curving into a cold, unreadable smile.
"That so?"His eyes slowly scanned the group.
Then he rolled his neck, loosening his shoulders."I’ve had a frustrating morning. You really don’t want to be my outlet right now."
The girl behind him sensed the shift in air—like the calm before a thunderstorm.
The thugs laughed again.
But they didn’t realize...
The storm had already arrived.
The street was silent again, but not from peace—
It was the aftermath of precision violence.
Before the girl could even comprehend what had happened, the five thugs who had surrounded her were now groaning and writhing on the ground. Two clutched their ribs, one held a dislocated arm, another whimpered with a bloody nose, and the last one was just... sobbing.
The girl stood frozen in disbelief. Her eyes wide, heart thundering in her chest.
Miles stood still. Calm. Like nothing had happened.
He turned to her, voice low but firm.
"Turn around. Face the wall."
The girl, confused but obedient, nodded and turned away. Something about his tone made her feel safe—protected, even if she didn’t understand why.
Miles turned his cold gaze back to the heap of broken bravado on the pavement. His boot pressed down firmly on the hand of the nearest thug.
Crunch.
The man screamed in agony.
"Where’s your boss?" Miles asked, voice like steel dragging across stone.
"H-He’s nearby! Please! Don’t—don’t hurt us anymore!"
"Call him."
The thug shakily pulled out his phone with his free hand."B-Boss... come quick. Something went wrong—very wrong."
Exactly thirty seconds later, a bulky man in gold chains and sunglasses swaggered around the corner—until he saw the scene.
Five of his men were on the ground crying like children.
And standing in the middle of them all, like a shadow summoned from nightmares, was him .
Miles turned his head slightly.
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, the boss froze. The blood drained from his face. His bravado evaporated.
He dropped to his knees.
"S-Sorry sir! It’s—it’s my fault! I didn’t know—please forgive me!"
Miles took one slow step forward, voice thunderous despite its quiet tone.
"Why were you harassing a little girl? Huh?"He didn’t yell.
He didn’t have to.
The authority in his voice cracked through the boss’s spine like lightning.
Behind him, the girl turned slightly, just enough to hear his words—and for the first time in days, she felt... safe.
The man trembled.
"S-Sir... we weren’t trying to harm her... w-we were just trying to collect a debt. Her father owed money... g-gambling. He... he died last week. She has no mother. Just her and her little brother. Ten years old. So we thought—"
SLAP.
Miles’s hand struck across the man’s face like a hammer, snapping his head sideways. The echo of it bounced off the buildings.
Miles grabbed him by the collar, yanked him up with one arm like he weighed nothing, and hissed into his ear.
"You thought you’d come after a child because her father made a mistake? You think you’re tough because you can scare little girls?"
The boss whimpered, face flushed, eyes watery.
Miles pulled out his wallet. Without another word, he took out a wad of cash—$2000—and threw it in the man’s face.
"How much?"
The man stuttered, nearly crying."A-A thousand... only a thousand..."
"That’s double. Now take your dogs and crawl back to your little corner of the city," Miles growled."If I ever hear that you or anyone under you laid a finger—or even looked the wrong way—at her again... I won’t stop at broken bones."
He let go of the man, who collapsed to the ground, gasping.
"Now scram ."
The thugs scrambled to their feet, limping, supporting each other, and disappeared down the street like shadows fleeing sunlight.
Miles turned to the girl and crouched down gently.
"It’s okay now," he said softly."You’re safe."
The girl looked at him, tears forming.
"T-Thank you... big bro..." she whispered.
Miles gave a faint smile.
"Where’s your home?"He’d make sure she and her little brother were taken care of.
And no one—no one—would ever hurt them again.
After the thugs had vanished and the street had settled again, Miles gently placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder.
"Come on. Let’s get you and your brother something to eat."
The girl wiped her tears and nodded, still shaken but comforted by the calm in his voice.
They walked a few blocks in silence, until they reached a small breakfast shop tucked in the corner of the lane. It was still early, and the scent of warm bread, fried eggs, and sweet tea hung in the air like a gentle welcome.
Miles walked in, ordered food for two—hot sandwiches, fruit, and milk cartons—and had it all packed neatly.
As he handed the food bag to her, he knelt down to meet her eye level.
"Go home, alright? Stay with your brother. A good uncle will come soon—he’s one of the kindest people I know. He’ll take you both somewhere safe... somewhere better. You’ll have food, comfort... and people who care about you."
The girl looked at him, confused.
"But... why are you helping us?"
Miles gave a small, tired smile.
"Because someone should have helped me when I was your age. And because your story shouldn’t end like this."
The girl’s eyes welled with tears again—not from fear this time, but from a deep feeling she hadn’t known in a long time: hope.
"Okay, brother... thank you."
Miles watched as she slowly walked away, cradling the food bag to her chest like a treasure, a small smile on her face.
Once she disappeared down the street, he pulled out his phone and dialed Monica.
"Monica."
"Sir?"
"There’s a girl. About thirteen. No parents. A younger brother. Her father’s debts got her caught up with street thugs."
"Understood. Is she safe?"
"For now. I sent her home. Find her. Make sure she and her brother are taken care of. Somewhere warm, clean. Quiet."
"Yes, sir. I’ll send an agent immediately. Do you want them placed in the Phoenix Clan’s safe shelter?"
"Only if it’s the one with that old gardener—what’s his name? Mateo."
Monica chuckled softly."You remember his name?"
"He reminds me of someone. They will be safe there."
"Understood. I’ll handle it."
Miles ended the call, slipped the phone back in his pocket, and looked at the sky for a moment.
The city was still waking up. But for two children in it... their lives were already starting to change.
And for Miles, that was reason enough to keep going.