Chapter 80
Chapter 80:
“I bought the building,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “And I fired the man who hurt you p>
Arthur cried then. Not out of sadness, but out of relief. He hugged his granddaughter, the girl from the trailer park who had just conquered a kingdom to save him.
Aurora closed her eyes. One pawn down. The King was next.
The next morning, a thick fog rolled off the East River, wrapping the city in a damp, grey blanket. But in the Bronx, the air felt different. It felt lighter.
A convoy of three black SUVs pulled up to the curb of the tenement building. The engines idled with a low, powerful hum that seemed out of place on the cracked pavement. Neighbors peeked out from behind curtains, whispering.
The rear door of the lead car opened. Aurora stepped out, offering her hand to the older man inside.
Arthur Vance emerged. He wasn’t wearing his janitor’s uniform. He was dressed in a simple but high-quality wool coat, his posture straighter than it had been in years. He looked up at the building where he had spent decades scrubbing floors and swallowing insults.
“Ready, Grandpa?” Aurora asked softly.
Arthur took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the old neighborhood—exhaust, rain, and resilience. “Ready p>
They walked into the lobby together. The smell of bleach and despair was gone, replaced by the sharp scent of industrial cleaner and fresh paint.
The rain outside had turned into a steady drizzle, washing away the grime of the Bronx streets, but inside the lobby of the apartment complex, the air felt scrubbed clean for the first time in decades.
Arthur Vance stood near the newly polished glass doors of what was formerly the ‘Long & Sons’ main office. He was not clutching a broom. He was holding a cup of hot coffee that one of the new staff members had insisted on pressing into his hands. His knuckles, usually white from gripping a mop handle, were relaxed, though he still stood with the humble posture of a man expecting to be yelled at.
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He stared at the spot on the linoleum where, only an hour ago, Zack Lane had been unceremoniously escorted out by the security team. The silence in the lobby was not the fearful hush that usually followed Zack’s tantrums; it was the professional, efficient silence of a regime change.
“Mr. Vance p>
Arthur blinked, snapping out of his reverie. Victor King, the CEO of Pulse Interactive and now the temporary administrator of the property portfolio, stepped forward. He didn’t sneer. He didn’t check his watch.
“The transition is complete,” Victor said, his voice modulated to a respectful volume. “The locksmiths are finishing up with the office re-keying. The cleaning crew—a professional service, not your neighbors—is on their way to handle the upper floors. You don’t need to worry about the maintenance schedule anymore p>
Arthur looked at his own shoes, then at Victor. “I usually do the evening sweep around this time. If the floors aren’t done… Mr. Lane used to…” He stopped, catching himself. Old habits were ghosts that didn’t vanish as quickly as people.
“Mr. Lane is currently explaining his employment history to a puddle outside,” a soft voice cut through the air, carrying an authority that made the new security guards straighten their spines.
Arthur turned. Aurora Vance stepped out of the elevator that led down from the administrative offices. She wasn’t wearing the oversized hoodies she used to hide in when she visited him here. She wore a simple beige trench coat that looked like armor, her hair pulled back to reveal the sharp, determined line of her jaw.