HIS FAVORITE TOY

“Mr. Ford.” “Nice to meet you.” Said Mr. Ford, the world's richest man, with a net worth of ninety billion dollars. Owner of four companies. Twenty-six years old. Not quite everyone's favorite. Blake Ford had everything money could buy, yet his life was never peaceful. Every minute of his life came with a threat. A phone call. A warning. A stranger watching from across the street. A bullet could be waiting for him anywhere. But Blake didn't care. That was how the game was played. One dies. One survives. And Blake had no intention of being the one who died. In his world, hesitation was weakness. Trust was dangerous. Everyone had a price, and everyone had something to lose. Someone always had to pull the trigger first. So Blake made sure it would never be him. He stood inside the private elevator of F8RD, staring at his reflection in the dark glass. Perfect suit. Cold expression. A face that gave nothing away. His phone vibrated. One message. WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. Blake read it once. Then deleted it. His security chief glanced at him. “Should we increase security?” Blake slipped the phone into his pocket. “No.” “Sir?” “If they want me dead, let them come.” The elevator doors opened. The entire twenty-seventh floor fell silent. Employees lowered their heads. Executives stopped talking. Blake stepped out. Nobody dared to ask about the message. Nobody needed to. They already knew. Blake Ford was walking into another day someone might try to kill him. And he was perfectly calm. Because fear had never controlled Blake Ford. He controlled it. On the other side of Blake Ford's world lived a man with a different name, a different personality, and a completely different life. No private elevators. No bodyguards. No billion-dollar companies. No one waiting outside his door to protect him. Davon Morgan washed his own clothes, cooked his own meals, paid his own bills, and worked for every little thing he had. Or at least, he tried to. Davon was a university graduate. Smart. Independent. Stubborn. And currently unemployed. His degree looked impressive on paper. His bank account did not. His rent was due in like a month. just a month before his landlord would be standing outside his apartment asking the question Davon had been avoiding. Where is my money? Davon stared at his laptop. Another job application. Another rejection. He closed the screen and rubbed his face. "Great." His phone rang. Carl. Davon answered. "Dude, the club is hiring, you know." Davon immediately frowned. "Come on. You know I don't like that club. It's always full of creeps." Carl laughed. "Come on. Just because some old dude came onto you once doesn't mean it's bad." "It means exactly that." "You're dramatic." "No. I'm unemployed." "Exactly. Which is why you need the job." Davon sighed. Carl continued. "It's only three days. You need your rent paid. You can't keep relying on job applications." Davon leaned back against his chair. He hated that Carl was right. Before he could answer, Carl added, "And you know my house can't hold another person. The kids already destroyed the place." Davon sadly nodded, even though Carl couldn't see him. "Fine." He heard Carl laugh. "Seriously?" "Three days." "That's my guy." "And if any old creep tries anything..." Davon paused. "I'm leaving." Carl burst out laughing. "That's what I wanted to hear." Davon rolled his eyes. "I'm serious." "I know." "Three days. That's it." "Deal." Davon looked at the empty room around him. Three days. Three shifts. Enough money to pay his rent. Then he could forget the club ever existed. At least, that was the plan. Carl suddenly spoke again. "By the way, Jeanne is going to be thrilled." Davon groaned. "Don't tell her I said yes until I actually show up." "Too late." "Carl." "I'm already telling her." "Carl!" The call ended. Davon stared at his phone. "Unbelievable." He stood and walked toward his tiny kitchen. His stomach growled. "First food. Then regret." He opened the refrigerator. Almost empty. He stared inside for a moment. Then sighed. "Definitely regret." Across the city, Blake Ford was sitting in a room worth more than everything Davon owned. Two men were standing in front of him. One was talking. Blake wasn't listening. His attention was on the message that had appeared on his phone. YOUR SECURITY HAS A HOLE. Blake's eyes narrowed. A second message appeared. AND WE KNOW EXACTLY WHERE TO HIT YOU. He locked his phone. "Leave." The two men stopped. "Mr. Ford?" "I said leave." They didn't argue. The door closed. Blake remained alone. For the first time that day, his expression changed. Someone had gotten close. Too close. And Blake Ford hated surprises.