The Chosen Heir

Chapter 17: Falling into Temptation

Now, back inside, hands gripping the steering wheel, he pulled out his phone like a drowning man clutching driftwood. His thumb hovered above the screen. There was one name he kept circling back to, Brookyln, his best friend.

Or at least, the man who used to be.

For a long moment Ash just stared at the name. His throat tightened. He remembered the last time he had called Brook, three months ago. Rent was overdue, his wife had been threatening to pack her bags. Ash had dialed Brook’s number late at night, sitting outside in the dark because he didn’t want his wife hearing him beg again.

Brook had picked up after the third ring, his voice casual, even friendly at first.

“Ash, what’s up, brother? Long time.”

Ash had explained his trouble carefully, trying not to sound desperate though desperation dripped from every syllable. Just a small loan, anything you can spare. I’ll pay back, I promise.

There had been a pause, a sigh, then Brook’s tone shifted, light, almost mocking.

“Ash, how long will you keep doing this? Begging here and there. At some point, you have to get your life together. I can’t keep giving handouts like this.”

The words had cut deeper than any knife.

Ash had forced a laugh back then, masking the sting. “Of course, of course. I understand.”

But after that night, he had never called again.

Now, sitting in the car with shame dripping from his skin like sweat, he knew he couldn’t dial that number. Not again.

He dropped the phone on his lap, covering his face with both hands. His heart pounded against his ribs like a prisoner beating against cell bars. How had he fallen so low? He was about to lose his job, his wife’s patience was paper thin, and his brother was staring down a trial in just two days.

He needed money. He needed a miracle.

Then it happened.

A soft ping broke the silence. He looked down. His phone screen lit up with a bright advertisement:

“Need cash fast? Borrow up to $5,000 instantly. Flexible repayment. No questions asked. Apply now.”

Ash's breath caught. His eyes widened.

For a second, he thought he was hallucinating. Fate itself seemed to be whispering.

$5,000. It was more money than he had ever held in his hands at once. Enough to fix the car scratches, maybe even cover a lawyer’s consultation for Ben. Enough to breathe, if only for a while.

He stared at the blue Apply Now button as though it were glowing. His finger twitched above it.

No, no, no, his conscience screamed. It’s a trap. Loans are chains. Once you take it, you’ll never climb out. Don’t do it, Ash.

But desperation is louder than reason.

“What choice do I have?” he whispered to himself, voice cracking.

The memory of Brook’s mocking words echoed in his skull. Get your life together… I can’t keep giving handouts.

Ash’s jaw clenched. “Fine. I’ll get my life together. Even if it means borrowing from strangers.”

His thumb hovered, trembling, then pressed down.

Tap.

The screen shifted instantly: Application Processing. Please wait.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through him. He couldn’t tell if it was relief or regret.

For the next ten minutes, Ash sat frozen, watching the small spinning circle dance on his phone. He imagined possibilities:

Mr Langston exploding but allowing him to pay for the damages. He could cover it with the loan.

His wife discovering the scratches and screaming, calling him useless again, only for him to wave $5,000 in her face and silence her doubts.

Even Ben, behind bars, hearing that Ash had found a way to hire someone, even a cheap lawyer. Maybe it could change something.

But reality was less forgiving. The scratches on the car still glared in the sunlight.

Ash stuffed the phone into his pocket. The loan might not even be approved. He had no time left to gamble.

The dashboard clock blinked 3:07 PM.

His pulse spiked. “Damn!”

He slammed the gear into drive, tires squealing as he pulled onto the road.

The city blurred past, but his mind was fixed on two things, the scratches and the spinning word on his phone: Processing.

Each traffic light felt like a judge’s gavel, pounding away seconds he didn’t have. Sweat rolled down his temples. His shirt clung to his back.

At one red light, his curiosity broke him. He yanked the phone out, praying.

The screen lit up again: Application Approved. Funds will be deposited shortly.

Ash's breath caught in his throat. His hands trembled so badly he nearly dropped the phone. Approved. Just like that.

A shaky laugh escaped him. For the first time all day, hope flickered inside his chest.

But it was short-lived.

The towering glass of Hawthorne International rose ahead, gleaming like a blade under the afternoon sun. He pulled into the parking lot, every nerve on fire.

3:15 PM

Ash killed the engine, staring at his reflection in the cracked screen of his phone. The loan was real. The scratches were real. And his boss, Langston was waiting.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, stepped out, and closed the door gently, as though softness could erase the jagged wounds carved into the car his chest tightening.