CHAPTER 176: AAAA!

Mishell just stood there, staring at the empty chair Miles left behind.

The café whispered around her — curious looks, silent laughs, pity mixed with mockery.

Her fake confidence cracked like cheap porcelain.

He walked away...

He didn’t even look back.

The boy she came with was also gone.

And so was her only chance.

Mishell sank slowly into the chair, palms on her forehead.

"Idiot... idiot... idiot..." she whispered to herself.

She finally understood.

She didn’t just embarrass herself.

She threw away a chance that other girls in the city would kill for.

Miles Sterling.

Elegant. Powerful. Calm.

Young, handsome... and richer than more than half the city combined.

And she walked in with some loud-mouthed clown to show off.

What was I thinking?

Her eyes blurred. She laughed at herself — soft, bitter.

"If I had just come alone..." she whispered, voice shaking.

"I could’ve been the girl next to him... I could’ve..."

The realization hit hard:

She didn’t lose a blind date.

She lost a destiny.

The staff pretended not to look. A few whispered.

"She got what she deserved."

"Acting rich when she isn’t even close."

"Serves her right — trying to step on people she thought were beneath her."

"Some people dig their own grave with their attitude."

Mishell covered her face with her hands.

I could’ve been the one...

But fate didn’t wait.

And the door Miles walked out from didn’t open again.

Not for her.

Not ever.

That night at Pearl Villa.

Miles sat cross-legged on the carpet, a notebook open, helping the twins fight their sworn enemy — fractions.

Pencils tapping, eyebrows squeezed in concentration.

Outside... the sound of a car stopping.

Asher’s head popped up like a little prairie dog.

"Mama, Daddy came back from the restaurant!"

Hope already closing her notebook —

"Yup! Let’s do this later."

Miles narrowed his eyes playfully.

"Just a little left. Complete it, then we play."

Twin chorus — "Okay big brooo..."

The front door opened.

Daniel walked in smiling, Elena behind him — but her smile wasn’t real.

Her eyes... wet.

Miles stood immediately.

"Mom? How was your day?"

Elena looked up at him, lips trembling before she pressed her palm gently against his cheek.

"Son..."

Miles’ expression shifted.

Concern, instinctively protective.

"Mom? What happened? Father?"

Daniel shook his head slightly, helpless expression — I don’t even know.

Elena’s voice cracked, soft and heavy,

"I’m sorry, it’s my fault... because of me you had to hear insults..."

Miles blinked. Then scoffed softly — not at her, but at the absurdity of that thought.

"Mom... I don’t care what strangers say."

He held her hand, gentle but firm.

"And none of this is your fault. You want me happy — that’s all. I can take insults. But I won’t tolerate anyone insulting my family. Ever."

Elena’s eyes softened, tears hanging.

Daniel placed a hand on her shoulder.

"He’s right. Our Miles deserves the best."

The twins looked up, confused little faces.

Hope tugged Elena’s sleeve.

"Mama, why are you sad?"

Elena exhaled, then smiled, pulling them into her arms.

"I’m not sad. I’m just very happy."

She stroked their hair.

"Your big brother takes care of us so well."

Hope grinned, proud like she was defending a superhero.

"Big broo is the best!"

Asher nodded fiercely.

"Number one!"

Miles chuckled, ruffling their hair, but inside —

something warm, almost painful, bloomed in his chest.

It was 11 PM.

Miles sat back in his chair, eyes scanning the field reports from the Silverline operatives — line after line, stack after stack. The silence in the documents was deafening. He had deployed his best, his most discreet analysts, to follow up on the two enigmatic men who had visited Sterling Security. These were veterans of urban intelligence, capable of tracking a whisper across a continent. Yet, here, they had returned empty-handed.

Nothing. Not a scrap of info on the two men who had shown up at Sterling Security earlier. Not a footprint. Not a whisper. It was as if the ground had swallowed them whole and the air had refused to carry their scent. For the first time in a long while, the world had gone quiet around a threat — and that silence was more alarming than noise. It was the absolute, coordinated silence of a city that was actively closing ranks against an intruder.

Then his phone buzzed. The sudden vibration against the wood of his desk was sharp in the quiet room.

Miles glanced at the caller ID, then answered.

"Kara?"

He put it on speaker. His other hand kept sifting through files.

Her voice slipped through the room — relaxed, teasing, yet carrying that eerie insight only someone from Silverline had.

"I thought you wouldn’t pick."

"What is it?"

Kara exhaled — that half-laugh, half-sigh he remembered all too well.

"They know you sent people here. They know your people are sniffing around. But your men aren’t going to find a single thing. Silverline doesn’t break, Ghost. When this city shuts its mouth — no one opens it. Not for soldiers. Not for kings. And definitely not for your hired help."

Miles leaned back, fingers steepled.

He didn’t interrupt. She continued.

"Foreigners always tried to control Silverline. Businesses, syndicates, politicians — they all came with plans. They all left with broken teeth. This city protects its own."

A brief pause. Kara’s tone softened, nostalgic.

"Just like the Rider gang days. Remember? You wanted one guy. And even you — you — had to join it first. The only way to find anyone here."

Miles’ jaw flexed. The mention of his past alias and that specific time was a deliberate strike. Memories flickered — bikes roaring through dirt roads, loyalty sealed in blood, the cold night wind across the mountains. A life buried, resurfacing in a single, painful flash.

"The citizens here... they see outsiders in one blink. If your men keep poking around, all you’ll achieve is suspicion. And nothing else."

Miles’ voice was calm.

"That’s a lot of advice. And encouragement."

"Not encouragement. Warning."

Her tone changed — lower, serious.

"Why would the Farmer’s Association move against you? They don’t attack unless it’s personal. So why are you involved in their war?"

Miles’ eyes sharpened.

"You’re asking my question for me."

Silence. Then Kara murmured:

"Call your people back. They are being noticed. Silverline loves guests, Ghost — not spies."

Miles stared at a photograph on the report — a burnt fragment of asphalt.

"Alright."

"And Ghost..."

Her voice softened again, wistful, dangerous.

"If you come in person... come see me. I miss those days."

Miles’ expression didn’t move.

"...Good night, Kara."

"You have ruined my sleep already. But... good night."

The call cut.

For a moment, there was stillness.

Then—

"She hasn’t changed, has she?"

Monica’s voice came from the laptop screen — she’d been on video call before the line switched.

Miles turned the chair slightly.

"Ignore her. That’s just who she is."

Monica smirked.

"At least she’s better than the one you met today."

Miles exhaled — long and done.

"Stop logging my daily disasters. It’s creepy."

"What? June told me it was a date. I got emotionally invested."

Miles rubbed his forehead.

"Call them back. Let the city breathe."

"So that’s it? Kara basically told you to mind your business and you said ’yes ma’am’?"

Miles’ gaze sharpened.

"The business..."

Monica blinked.

"What?"

"The business. Check if ACE ever operated in Silverline."

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. Screens shifted. Files scrolled.

Then—

"Found it."

She turned the display.

A headline glowed:

ACE Finances exits Silverline after internal conflict.

Miles’ expression darkened.

"Wait. ACE was there?"

"Look at the date."

His eyes tracked the timestamp...

"It’s the same month Basil Jefferson’s father died."

Monica leaned back slowly.

"That can’t be coincidence."

Miles’ voice lowered — cold conviction.

"It isn’t. That confirms who took Chester."

Monica frowned.

"Then why hand Kyle to you?"

Miles closed the file.

"That’s exactly why we investigate."

She nodded.

"I’ll dig deeper into the old incident. You should ask Gordon. Or David."

Miles thought a second.

Then:

"I’ll ask Silvey."

The screen dimmed.

Miles leaned back, eyes lost in the ceiling, mind already in the next battlefield.

Silverline wasn’t hiding their ghosts.

They were daring him to walk into them.

And he would.

Soon.

Next Morning

Miles walked in, hair damp, grey tee clinging to him from the morning workout. He rolled his neck once — a habit after training — feeling the soft ache in his shoulders.

"Son, come here." Elena’s voice floated from the kitchen.

Miles walked in. Elena stood by the stove, stirring something in a steaming bowl. The whole kitchen smelled warm, cozy — like herbs and childhood mornings.

She lifted the bowl slightly.

"Can you taste this for me?"

Miles opened his mouth instinctively — "aaaa—"

Elena chuckled and shook her head.

"What are you, five?"

Still, she scooped a spoonful, blew on it gently, and fed him like old times.

Miles’s eyes lit up the second it touched his tongue.

"Mom... this is so good. What soup is this?"

Elena blinked — a little nervous, a little proud.

"Is it really?"

"Yes."

She almost glowed at his reaction. She fed him another spoon without waiting.

"I was experimenting... thinking of adding a new recipe to the menu."

Miles swallowed, nodded like he’d tasted something divine.

"It’s very good. People will line up for this."

Just then Daniel walked in — still in morning slippers, adjusting his glasses.

"What is going on here?"

Miles turned, mouth full.

"Father, Mom made soup. It’s amazing. Try it."

Daniel brightened.

"Really? Lemme have a spoon. Aaa—"

Elena didn’t even look. She shoved the whole bowl into his hands.

"Here. Hold this."

Daniel stared at it, betrayed.

"...This is injustice."

Elena raised an eyebrow.

"What did you say?"

Daniel straightened up immediately.

"Nothing."

Miles burst into laughter — almost choking.