The heavy twilight of the city felt thick and humid as the taxi pulled up to a dimly lit street corner on the west side. As I stepped out, the distant hum of the neon lights and wine of the downtown core felt like another world. This neighborhood was quieter, shadowed by aging brick buildings and small, family-run eateries that prioritized discretion over flash.
Rebecca Tolman, known around Longroad Logistics as the shy, diligent Rebecca, insisted on paying the fare. I tried to reach for my wallet—after all, I was the one pulling a six-figure salary now—but she was surprisingly firm, her small hand blocking mine as she handed a few dollars to the driver. It felt strange. For years, I had been the stay at home husband living on Emma Hopkins' allowance, and now, even in my position of power
