Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires)(59)

He was wrong, of course.

I was already hoping for eternity.

“As his guardian,” he said, flipping through his paperwork, “You'll get to make the call. But you should really talk to him first.”

Of course I would talk to him. I'd also do my f*cking best to convince him that he had to do this. He was fifteen, how could he NOT fight? I was practicing every argument I could think of when I sat across from Brodie in our apartment.

He beat me to it.

“I want to live,” he said, no hint of fear or wavering. “I'll do whatever I have to. Give me chemo, give me prayer, give me anything.” Looking me in the eye, he smiled so that his dimples showed. “What's the point of living if you aren't willing to risk everything to keep doing it?”

I'd never hugged him harder than that moment.

We had such belief in our own strength... in the good of the world. How could we possibly lose?

The insurance company told us how.

“It's the policy,” the third man on the phone said to me. “Your parents are the ones that put you on this plan, and you've never changed it. It doesn't pay for the kind of treatment you're seeking. I'm sorry, Mr. Silverwell.”

“This isn't about any f*cking policy!” I screamed. “You're talking about someone's life! Doesn't that matter at all!?”

“Sir, if you like, I can put you through to customer service—”

“Fuck your customer service!”

The man on the line went quiet. “...Listen. There's nothing we can do for you.”

“Can, or won't?” I spat.

“Won't,” he admitted, and I sensed bitter humor in his tone. “Good luck, Sir.” He probably hung up, but I couldn't say, because I'd dropped the phone onto the floor and stomped it to pieces.

Nothing about this made sense to me. How could we live in a world where a boy—a BOY—could die because an insurance company decided their 'policy' didn't cover treatment? How was this possible?

Worse, they'd been siphoning money from us the whole time. Each bill claimed different things, saying the basic procedures Brodie was undergoing weren't covered, either.

In a single month, we went from two happy brothers... to two people crushed under massive debt. But screw the money, I wanted my brother to get the treatment he needed. Even if it could only give him a little more time, it would be enough.

Anything would be enough.

I'd been working as a coder at a security software company since before graduating. Even as a tiny child, I'd been fascinated with computers. It came naturally to me. I pushed my company for more hours, for advances in my salary.

It didn't matter. None of it did.

Brodie passed away four months after being diagnosed. And still, the insurance company wasn't done kicking us into the mud. They held his life policy, and they decided that his death was preventable.

Preventable with the treatment they refused to provide.

I was broke. Not just financially... but emotionally. It was a hateful numbness I'd never experienced, or dreamed was possible. How could humans feel like I did? But then, how could they feel so little that they'd let a young boy wither and die?

I didn't want answers.

I wanted to punish them.

It's unsettling how easy it was to find out which bank Crodan Insurance kept their money in. It was even easier to figure out how to crack into Old Stone's system. I'd need to plug the coder-chip into their system on site, but that was fine.

That day, I'd taken out the gun my father had left behind. It was one of the only things my parents had left for us before they'd died. I didn't think about what I was doing, as far as what happened to me. My family was all dead. If I got my revenge, I'd be satisfied.

But when I was prepping to leave... I couldn't bring myself to load the gun.

I couldn't let anyone else get hurt.

An empty gun is still a good threat, though. I just had to keep it secret that it was free of bullets.

Inside the bank, I was cold. Calm. Everyone around me was muted and grey and faceless. Any of them would have worked as a hostage.

Then I saw you.

You were standing there in this flowing dress, the only source of color in the whole room... the whole world. The second you looked into my eyes, I knew I had to act. If I didn't, I'd think about the risk... the danger... and I'd back out.

So I grabbed you.

And you know the rest.

I paused the story, transfixed by how her wide eyes were glistening. Unshed tears had gathered; I wiped them away before they could wet her cheeks. She bent away, rubbing her eyes vigorously. “I knew you stole from the insurance company. I didn't know...” Trailing off, she covered her mouth.

Hugging her, I set my chin on the top of her head. “Shh, it's alright.”

She sniffled, speaking before I was ready. “How did you get away?”

My lashes brushed my skin, I saw the darkness behind my eyelids. “I pulled off my mask and merged into the panicked crowd I'd created. It wasn't hard to slip away. I told you, I had no intention of staying here once I was done. I planned to leave the city... I did that.”

And then you drew me back.

Florian had been confused by my decision to bring our company here. When I'd met him in San Francisco, he'd been working at a start-up; the one Gerard owned. We'd been the most talented pair there, so we'd hit it off.