The Man Who Owned The Town

Chapter 3: Two Million Reasons To Run

Lovely’s Bedroom

Lightning flashed across the ceiling.

Lovely and Joy hadn’t slept. Not since the club.

The black duffel bag lay open on the bed. Cash. Stacks of it. More than they’d ever seen in their lives.

Joy sat cross‑legged, running her hands over the bundles like she couldn’t believe they were real.

Lovely sank onto the edge of the mattress, hugging a pillow to her chest. She was pale, eyes red from staring at the same spot for hours.

“We shouldn’t have taken it,” she whispered. “I’m exhausted, and this is making me nervous.”

Joy grinned, but her hands were shaking.

“We’re rich, friend. Look at it. We could actually breathe for once.”

Lovely stared at the bag. “What if this comes back on us? I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Joy shoved her shoulder playfully. “You and your feelings. Let’s figure it out tomorrow. After we get some sleep. And maybe… a little shopping.”

Lovely tried to stay serious. Then she cracked. A tired grin slipped out.

“You’re impossible.”

Joy zipped the bag shut. She didn’t count it. Too scared to know the real number.

“Tomorrow,” Joy said. “We figure it out tomorrow.”

She pushed the bag under the bed, like hiding it would make the guilt disappear.

It didn’t.

----

Michael’s Club Office. Same Night.

Across town, the bass from downstairs shook the walls. Inside Michael’s office, it was dead silent.

Michael sat behind his desk. Sleeves rolled up. A cigarette burning between his fingers. He hadn’t raised his voice once. That was the worst part.

Freddy was on his knees in front of him. Face swollen. Blood dripping onto the carpet. Two of Michael’s men held his shoulders.

Michael exhaled smoke. Leaned forward.

“Where’s my bag, Freddy?”

Freddy flinched. “I hid it! I swear… by the old oak tree in the back alley. In the bushes near the trunk. The whole thing! Two million. I swear I hid all of it!”

Michael nodded slowly. Stood. Walked around the desk and crouched in front of him. Tilted Freddy’s chin up with two fingers.

“You work for me,” Michael said quietly. “Don’t I feed you? Don’t I pay you?”

Freddy was shaking now, breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

“Do I look mad to you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He stood, flicked ash to the floor.

“If I find that bag and a single rand is missing,” Michael said, voice still calm, “you know what I’ll do to you, right?”

Freddy sobbed.

Michael turned away. Gave his men a slight nod.

“Lock him up.”

They dragged Freddy out, his shoes scraping against the floor.

Michael sat back down. Stared at the open safe.

“And find that bag,” he said, like he was discussing the weather. “If someone’s already found it… bring them to me. Nobody touches what’s mine and walks away.”

He took another drag.

Somewhere across town, a girl had just zipped up a bag that wasn’t hers and had no idea she was about to pay for all of it.