The Chosen Heir

Chapter 6: Wrong Timing

The night air was cool against his skin as Ash walked briskly toward the main road. The streetlights pooled dim light onto the cracked pavement, their hum blending with the occasional distant sound of motorbikes.

The timing couldn’t have been worse.

A taxi slowed beside him. He climbed in, gave the driver the name of the station, and sat back, his hands gripping his knees.

Ben was only twenty-four. Young enough to still make dumb choices, old enough to know better. Ash had always felt responsible for him since they found themselves at the door of that orphanage that day, he was just four and he was holding his 1 year old brother's hand. Memories from when he was much younger he couldn't even recall, probably because he was far too young to remember. He’d pulled his young brother out of trouble more times than he could count—late rent(although he himself was battling with his), gambling debts, even a bar fight once. But this… this was different. Theft carried a weight that could crush a man’s future.

The ride was short but tense, his thoughts looping through too many problems at once: the rent, Braxton’s threats, the embarrassment in front of the neighbors, and now Ben in trouble again. When the taxi dropped him at the station, the first thing he noticed was the flickering fluorescent light above the entrance. It buzzed like an irritated insect.

Inside, the reception area smelled faintly of old paper and dust. Behind the desk, a broad-shouldered officer sat flipping through a ledger. Ash stepped forward.

“I’m here to see Benjamin Booker” he said. “I’m his brother.”

The officer didn’t look up from the book. “Visiting time is over.”

Ash leaned on the counter slightly. “Please, I just need a few minutes. I came as soon as I got the call. I just want to make sure he’s alright.”

The officer glanced up now, his eyes flat. “Visiting time is over,” he repeated, slower this time.

Ash swallowed his frustration. “Look, I know you have rules, but this is my younger brother. He’s never been in trouble this serious before—”

“That’s not my problem,” the officer said sharply, snapping the ledger shut.

Ash kept his voice calm, though his insides were boiling. “Sir, please. If I could just—”

“Are you deaf?” the officer barked. “Go home. Come back in the morning.”

Ash stood there for a moment, fists tightening at his sides. Part of him wanted to argue more, to push until the man gave in. But he remembered Tessa’s warning—don’t get yourself into trouble.

He stepped back, his jaw tight, and turned toward the door. The officer’s voice followed him out. “Tomorrow morning. Not a minute before.”

***

The walk back to the road felt heavier than the walk there. The street seemed quieter now, as if the city itself had gone to sleep and left him alone with his thoughts.

He flagged another taxi and climbed in, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window as the driver pulled away.

Second-guessing crept in like a slow leak. Maybe Tessa was right. Maybe he should have called Brooklyn. Maybe coming here tonight was a waste. He thought of Braxton’s sneer earlier, the laughter from the tenants, the shame that had burned hot in his chest. Was this what life had become? One humiliation after another?

He wondered—though he hated to admit it—what he had done to deserve this string of blows. He worked hard, tried to do right by people, yet trouble seemed to find him like a shadow that never left.

By the time he reached their building, the night had deepened. The compound was silent except for the faint chirp of crickets. He climbed the stairs slowly, his steps echoing faintly.

When he opened the door, Tessa was still awake, sitting in the same spot on the couch where he’d left her. Her eyes lifted to his immediately, searching his face for answers.

“They wouldn’t let me in,” he said before she could ask. He slipped off his jacket and hung it on the hook. “Visiting time was over. I begged, but… nothing.”

She rose and came toward him, her hands finding his shoulders. “I told you…” she said softly, but there was no reproach in her tone—only concern. “I just wanted to see him,” Ash murmured. “Make sure he was alright.”

Her fingers tightened slightly on him. “And tomorrow? Will you go back?” “Yes,” he said, meeting her eyes. “First thing.”

They stood there for a moment without saying anything.

Finally, she reached for his hand. “Come to bed.”

***

In their small bedroom, the faint light from the streetlamp outside spilled through the thin curtains. Luckily for them, Nora hadn't woken up which was unlike her. They lay side by side, the old mattress creaking under their weight.

For a while, neither spoke. Ash stared at the ceiling, his thoughts still tangled. Tessa shifted closer, resting her head on his chest.

“Ash?” she whispered.

“Mm?”

“No matter what happens… you know I love you, right?”

He turned his head toward her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I know. And I love you too.”

Her fingers traced idle patterns on his shirt. “We’ll get through this. Somehow.”

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. “Yeah. Somehow.”