THE REJECTED SON-IN-LAW (Birth of the Mafia)

Chapter Five

It has been weeks since I got the money. Now I have bought a few buildings and even established a big thriving firm. I couldn't believe that I had done all this in a few weeks.

Business had been going very well and the best part was that my face had been showing in the newspapers as one of the new billionaires in town.

During these last couple of weeks, I haven’t heard from Fredrick or his men. He told me that his men would keep in touch but nothing had happened. Well, I had no choice than to make good use of the money he gave me.

It was a bright Friday afternoon. I sat at my desk looking at the papers, curious to find out what the papers had to say about me even though I don’t really care so much about publicity. My breath cut into half when I saw the headlines.

I read it three times to be sure I was reading the right thing. The headline stated that Fredrick Cooper was shot dead in his villa during a vacation with his girlfriend. The girl escaped and there had been no trace of her.

I thought that this must be the doing of that CJ guy those thugs were talking about. He really took this too far.

I rushed out of my office, my staff looking surprised as to what was going on. I didn’t mind their thoughts. I made it to the car and drove off immediately.

I arrived at my villa. I took the television remote from the table, turned on the news. The newscaster mentioned the exact same thing the newspaper said, but nothing was spoken about his daughter. Did they get to her? Or was she safe?

My phone suddenly rang on the table. Rushed and picked it up. It was an unknown number. I hesitated for a few seconds before answering it.

“The man you are looking for has been found,” a man's voice said over the phone. He sounded serious.

“Who is this?” I asked, sounding curious.

“Who I am is not important now. Fredrick told me to call you if things go sideways, unfortunately it has,” he said. “Hope you See the News?”

I froze, finally Fredrick had finally reached out to me.

“Ye-yes,” I said, feeling uncomfortable but didn’t want to show it. “Fredrick is dead, what does a dead man want with me?”

“Don’t think you could run your mouth, country boy, just because Fredrick is dead, I could still cut them off your tongue if you don't put them in their place.”

I sigh, his words sound to me like a mere threat I had seen worse. Living with Jennifer and her mother was worse than cutting my tongue.

“Okay,” I replied calmly.

“Meet me at the café downtown at six o’clock,” he said, then hung up.

I didn’t like people treating me like I was a slave, now being rich has taught me that. I am my own boss now. I had to do this for him, not because he ordered me to but because he made me what I am now.

I arrived at the café, at the exact time the man told me. It was almost empty, just a couple on the right and a man seated at a corner. He wore a hat that covered his face.

I couldn’t tell if he was the one I spoke with on the phone. Made my way inside, took an empty seat to my right, my eyes kept tilting backwards at the man wearing a hat, he felt uncomfortable and left when he realized I was staring at him all the time.

After the man made it through the door, another man came in, he wore a glove and a black jacket, he walked past me and took a seat behind me. Both of us facing the opposite direction.

“Sorry I am late,” he said. Coughing a little to keep his voice low.

“You are the one who called me?” I asked, curious why he was seated behind me and not before me.

“Yes man, look, no place is safe, you need to watch your back,” he said, sounding sharp.

I sighed, laughing within me that I had been living unsafe ever since I got married to Jennifer. These could not be compared to those moments. “You told me you found the man behind the kidnapping.”

“Yes I did,” he handed me a file. “Charles Johnson, popularly known as CJ, was behind it all.”

I rushed to the paper immediately, looking at the photo attached to each piece.

I paused immediately, my hands stiff like a corpse.

The man in the picture was the same man who knocked at my door, kissed my wife in front of me and even gave me a tip, treating me like a slave in my own home. He even called me a slave. Every moment I looked at him, he felt like reaping them off his neck.

Yes, I need to get rid of him. I smiled slowly.

“Where can I find this CJ now?” I asked.

“It is not as easy as you think, CJ is highly protected at all times. I hear no one gets into his compound and comes out alive.”

“So, if no one could get him, why send me there?”

“I don’t know, you have to figure out this about yourself, that man needs to be dead soon. Here you have this,” he said, handing me a card. “That is the number of the man who would be feeding you with intel, Goodluck pal.”

I paused, looked at the picture again. “Can I keep this?” I asked.

“Yes, you can and also have this too,” he gave me something in a box. It looked like a gift. I opened it, froze when I saw what was inside.

“A gun!” I shouted, looking around. No one was watching.

“You would need it,” he said. Stood up to leave but sat back. “I almost forgot, Fredrick's daughter is missing, no one knows what happened to her, you need to fine her before they do and keep her safe until all this is over,” he stood up and patted my shoulder twice before leaving.

I couldn’t imagine what this was, but I was about to kill someone, not just someone but Charles Johnson, a man that treated me like trash in my house.

I stood up a few minutes later and left the bar. I drove back home. The first place I went to was my bedroom.

Put all the files and gun under the bed. Rushed to my phone. I opened it, took out the card from my pocket. Dialed the number.

“Hey, I told you not to call this number, you broke fool,” a voice shouted from the phone.

“Sorry, I am Samuel Parker. I was told to call you for intel,” I said, feeling embarrassed at his tone.

“Oh, sorry dude, I thought you were my homeowner. I haven’t been paying my rent for three years.”

“Is that right,” I said, trying not to poke into his business. “Back to the job, I want to have every information about Charles Johnson.”

“Okay and done,” he replied. “He is having a date tonight at the fancy restaurant at—.”

I paused, my hand grabbed my phone tightly. “Who is he meeting with?” I asked, hoping it was Jennifer. At least I could see what she would look like when I finally take Charles down.

“Umm, well, it wasn't stated, that piece of information is kept blank.”

“Then find it, I need to know who he is meeting with,” I shouted.

There was a moment of silence over the phone.

“Okay, okay, I will try my best, sir. Just give me a few seconds to hack into their guest list for the night,” he answered.

“Good,” I said, breathing heavily.

“I found it,” he shouted. “Oh, this doesn’t look good.”

“What did you find,” I asked, seriousness written all over me.

“It says here. Hanna Cooper." His voice spilled.

My hand froze.

“What?”