Chapter 4

The next day, I went back to the construction site.

The sun was merciless, like it wanted to peel the skin right off you.

I was wearing a hard hat, weaving through a jungle of steel and concrete. I'm a civil engineer — sounds like a respectable white-collar job, but on the job site, I was basically a glorified errand boy.

"Kyle, this rebar shipment has the wrong grade!"

"Kyle, the inspector is holding up the paperwork again!"

"Kyle, Mr. Smith wants you in his office!"

I spun like a top, never stopping. Sweat dripped into my eyes and burned like hell. But I didn't even have time to wipe my face. Only one thought was running through my head: make money.

At noon, I knocked on the project manager's office door.

A wave of cold air hit me the moment I stepped inside, enough to make me shiver. Mr. Smith was kicked back in his leather executive chair, smoking an expensive cigarette, eyes fixed on the stock charts on his screen.

"Kyle." He didn't look up. "What do you want?"

I swallowed hard and kept my voice low. "Mr. Smith, I'd like to request a six-month advance on my salary."

His fingers stopped on the keyboard. He turned and looked me up and down, then let out a laugh.

"Six months in advance? Kyle, you think this company runs a charity? You make $8,000 a month — that's $48,000. What are you putting up as collateral?"

"I… I can work overtime. I can do the work of two people. Mr. Smith, I really need this money, please." I was sweating through everything I had on, practically ready to get down on my knees.

Mr. Smith flicked his ash and gave me a look full of contempt. "Kyle, having ambition is a fine thing in a young man. But you've got to crawl before you can walk. You think $500,000 is easy to come by? Don't think I don't know about the pressure Audrey's mother is putting on you. Let me give you some advice — don't bite off more than you can chew. That girl Audrey is a beautiful woman. She's wasting her time with you. Mr. Draven drives a Range Rover. How do you even think you compare?"

His words were like a dull blade, carving into me piece by piece.

I don't know how I made it out of that office.

The heat outside swallowed me whole again. I stood on an unfinished floor dozens of stories up and stared down at the city below me.

Traffic flowed endlessly through the streets below, and towers of glass and steel stretched as far as the eye could see.

This city held endless wealth and endless opportunity — but not a single inch of it belonged to me, Kyle.

After work, I dragged my lead-heavy legs back to our rental apartment.

Audrey had already made dinner.

Nothing fancy.

She was wearing that old faded T-shirt, her hair loosely pulled back, a bandage stuck to her forehead.

"You're home! come on" She smiled at me — sweet and warm — but I could see the exhaustion hiding behind her eyes.

I sat down, picked up my fork, and dug in.

The food wasn't great, but I ate every bite like it was a feast.

"Kyle, I went to look at an apartment today." Audrey spoke up suddenly, her voice soft and careful.

My fork froze mid-air.

She pulled a crumpled flyer from her pocket and spread it flat on the table.

"Look — it's out in the west suburbs. Yeah, it's old and rough, thirty years old, top floor, no elevator. But the price is low — only $600,000! The down payment is just $180,000. We already have $30,000 saved. If I borrow a little from some friends and you pull together a bit more, we can make it work!"

Her eyes were shining. She pointed at the blurry floor plan on the flyer, excitedly laying out our future.

"It's only about 430 square feet, I know — but we could enclose the balcony to get more space, paint the walls that soft gray you like, find a nice second-hand couch on eBay…"

I watched her go on and on, my vision slowly blurring.

A run-down low-rise in the suburbs.

This was the bottom of the bottom — what she had settled for, just to make up for my failures.

She could have been sipping afternoon tea in a luxury downtown high-rise. Instead, she was ready to go beg and borrow from people, all for a 430-square-foot apartment.

"Stop." I cut her off.

"Kyle…" Audrey froze.

"I said stop!" I shoved back from the table and stood up, grabbed the flyer, tore it apart, and threw the pieces to the floor.

"I'd rather sell my blood, work myself into the ground — but I will never let you live in a dump like that. $500,000, not a cent less. I will buy us a place right in the downtown of this city!"

Audrey stared at the scraps of paper scattered across the floor, her eyes turning red.

She didn't argue. She just quietly crouched down and picked up the pieces one by one, her voice breaking: "Kyle, I just don't want you wearing yourself out… I really don't care where we live…"

"But I do!"

I screamed at her like a wild animal. "I care what people think of you! I care what your mom says about me behind her back! Do you get that?!"

Audrey went silent. Her tears hit the floor, one drop after another.

I watched her shoulders tremble and wanted to slap myself.

I slammed the door and walked out into the thick black night.

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