CHAPTER 2
1270 Words
They kept us waiting for nearly thirty minutes.
By then, my fingers were pressing faint impressions into my knees, releasing, pressing again.
I sat with my back straight, staring at the floor. No one spoke, save for the occasional throat clearing. I tried hard not to think about whether this would work, about what I would do if it didn’t.
Then a voice broke the silence.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” His tone was deep, but somehow soft at the same time. “We had a few unavoidable delays. Thank you for your patience.”
I looked up, and there he was. Jason Donovan, standing at the front of the room.
He didn’t look like the man I remembered from the courtroom. Then, he had a sly, devilish air, even as he plead innocence. It was easy to spot. Now, his face held the calm of someone redeemed. The kind of man you’d want to believe in.
The rest of the meeting continued in a blur. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing toward him at intervals, careful not to stare. My mind spun from thoughts I couldn’t control.
I wondered if these people knew about his past, if they knew their precious leader was nothing but a cold-blooded murd—
“Would you like to tell us about yourself?”
The question pulled me out of my head. I froze and looked around. All eyes were on me. Pointing at myself, I half-whispered, “Me?”
Jason nodded with a gentle, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. This is a safe space… unless you’re not ready.”
I drew a deep breath and rose, clasping my hands in front of me.
“Hi. My name is Gloria.” I said softly, letting my voice falter just enough. “Five years ago… my sister, she couldn’t have children. She was so depressed, she…” I brushed an invisible tear off my cheek. “She ended her life. I didn’t know how to cope. Alcohol became my refuge…”
I paused shortly, letting my eyes quaver, careful to let the grief show.
“I lost my family, my friends, my job,” I continued with a steadier voice. “An acquaintance of mine introduced me to this place, and I hope things can get better for me.”
I exhaled deliberately, allowing the room feel the weight of that moment.
“Thank you.”
From the way Jason’s eyes held mine, I knew he was fully convinced.
“Thank you for sharing, Gloria,” his voice dripped with sympathy. “I can imagine how difficult that must have been. But the first step to healing is recognition, and I’m proud of you for taking it.”
I nodded and gave a small smile before returning to my seat.
After the meeting, I stayed behind, lingering near the refreshment table. I pretended to examine the cups while really monitoring Jason, who was standing a few feet away, laughing with two women.
No surprise there.
I hadn’t planned on approaching him. If anything was going to happen, he would have to come to me.
I diverted my attention elsewhere, making small talk with some of the other members, when he spoke behind me.
“You did good today, Gloria.”
I had already seen him from the corner of my eyes.
I faced him, lifting a brow slightly. “How so… Mr. Donovan?”
He frowned, though not displeased, “Please, call me Jason.”
Then his expression softened.
“And I wasn’t joking when I said I was proud of you. Most first-timers don’t have the courage to speak like that.”
I smiled gratefully, then hesitated, deliberately picking at my manicured nails so he would notice the rose-gold polish. His favorite color.
“I hope this doesn’t come off as forward,” I finally said, “but I’d really like to know more about the recovery program. Can I buy you a coffee?”
For a split second, he looked surprised. Then he smiled, so wide both his dimples showed. “Of course.”
A few minutes later, Jason and I sat opposite each other at a small coffee shop not far from the meeting center.
He did most of the talking. About the recovery program, the people who came through its doors, the small wins, and the relapses. It was impossible not to notice how invested he was.
“I’ve founded several addiction programs around the city,” he said at one point, stirring his coffee absently. “But I’m most involved with Alcoholics Anonymous. It hits close to home.”
I watched him as he spoke, he sounded so genuine, convincing even.
Had he really changed?
Was the accident what he meant by ‘close to home’?
He shifted in his seat. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“Of course.”
I followed him with my eyes as he headed toward the restroom, my gaze fixed on his back until the door closed behind him.
Only then did I notice his phone beside his coffee cup.
I glanced to my left. Then my right.
No one was paying attention.
My pulse quickened as I picked it up.
Locked.
My phone was already in my hand. I opened the app.
“*Place the devices together*,” the hacker had instructed. “*The rest takes care of itself.*”
I aligned them.
The screen flashed.
Unlocked.
I selected the program and began the installation.
10%.
I looked up at the restroom door.
30%.
50%
My foot tapped lightly against the floor.
62%
70%.
85%.
Sweat slid down my temples.
“Come on,” I murmured under my breath.
95%.
98%.
100%!
A green check appeared.
**Malware Installation complete.**
I set his phone back to its exact position, just as the restroom door opened, and Jason returned.
I lowered my gaze and began to fiddle with my sobriety chip, as if I’d been doing it the whole time.
“I hope I didn’t take too long,” he said, sitting down.
“Not at all,” I replied smoothly. “But I should get going. It’s getting late, and I’ve locked my roommate out.”
He nodded immediately. “Of course, I have to leave too.”
As we stepped out of the café, the evening air felt cooler than I expected. Jason walked beside me for a moment, then rested a hand lightly on my shoulder.
“I really hope you come to the next meeting,” he said. “This program works, but only if you stay consistent.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “I will.”
And I meant it. In my own way.
We parted there. He headed toward his sleek sports car, and I to my plain coral sedan. I slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door.
The engine hummed beneath me as I started it and adjusted the mirror. Just as I reached for my seatbelt, my phone buzzed.
A message from the tracking malware.
**Device alert: Donovan’s iPhone — moving.**
I was about to swipe up and dismiss the notification, but a sneaky thought slipped in.
I stayed instead, letting him pass. His car slowed briefly near mine, and the window slid down.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I waved my hand casually, “Just calling my roommate.”
He drove off.
I waited. Counted to ten. Then followed at a careful distance, my grip steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on his taillights.
Time to see who the Philanthropist really is.
- Writer
