Chapter 143 - 142 Prime Real Estate
**** EMILY ****
Desperation tastes a lot like stale coffee and cheap printer ink.
I stare at the printed spreadsheet Zoe left sitting on the massive mahogany dining table. The staggering rental prices mock me in bold black font. We desperately need a physical location for EZ Tea. We are completely blocked out of the prime real estate surrounding the university campus. I tap my fingernail against the glossy wood, listening to the sharp, rhythmic sound echo in the quiet room.
The Wolfe estate is perfectly silent today. The central air conditioning blows a steady stream of cold air over my shoulders, smelling faintly of lemon polish and old wealth. I run through my limited list of powerful contacts, searching for a viable solution to this massive roadblock.
I could easily call Warren Sinclair. The Azure Syndicate leader practically owns the underground commercial districts of Vanguard City. He offered me a top-tier position in his organization and a VIP access card. He could secure a building lease with a single, threatening phone call. But accepting a favor from a notorious syndicate boss carries a heavy, unspoken price. I refuse to owe him that kind of lethal debt.
Then there is Victor Sterling. He controls endless corporate resources at Sterling Pharmaceuticals. But he is currently buried under mountains of federal red tape, fast-tracking the early phases of human clinical trials for the SN1818 cardiovascular formula. Disturbing a pharmaceutical CEO over a simple milk tea shop lease is highly unprofessional. He has a massive job to do right now, and I refuse to distract him.
I grab my sleek phone from the table, fully intending to message Zoe. We have to compromise. We simply cannot afford a six hundred thousand dollar base rent. We will have to settle for a cramped side alley location and pray the wealthy medical students actually find us.
The phone screen lights up brightly before I can open the messaging application. An unsaved local number flashes across the smooth glass.
I swipe my thumb across the screen and press the speaker to my ear.
"Emily Vance."
"Well, aren’t you sounding incredibly formal today."
The rough, gravelly voice on the other end is instantly recognizable. My grip tightens aggressively around the metal casing of the phone. The vivid memory of pressing my loaded Nightblade pistol against the back of his skull rises to the surface of my mind. Silas Hunt is a local thug who terrorizes vulnerable business owners. I have absolutely zero patience for him today.
"What exactly do you want, Silas?" I ask. My voice is sharp and entirely unwelcoming. "I am very busy."
"Relax, I am not calling to cause any trouble," Silas says. His tone lacks his usual aggressive, violent arrogance. He actually sounds almost pleasant, which is deeply unsettling. "I am calling to say thank you. Dr. Aris performed the surgery on my mother this morning. It was a complete success. She is recovering perfectly in the VIP wing."
"That is good news," I reply, keeping my emotional reaction perfectly flat. I do not care about his personal gratitude. I only facilitated the medical connection with Dr. Aris to keep Silas entirely under my control and away from Aunt Cherry’s pizza shop.
"I want to treat you to dinner tonight," Silas continues. Static crackles slightly over the phone speaker. "A proper, expensive feast. Name the absolute best restaurant in Vanguard City. It is completely on me."
"I will pass," I tell him immediately. "I have absolutely no desire to sit across a dining table from you, Silas. Our transaction is officially concluded. Do not contact me again."
I prepare to pull the phone away from my ear. My thumb hovers directly over the red button. A sudden, sharp thought stops my movement completely. I stare at the printed real estate spreadsheet sitting on the table.
Vanguard Medical University sits right in the middle of his primary territory. He controls the underground commercial districts and the local vendors in that exact area. He knows the property managers. He knows the greedy landlords who refuse to negotiate with independent startups.
"Wait," I say quickly.
"Did you change your mind about the food?" Silas asks, sounding entirely too smug.
"I do not want your dinner," I instruct him. "But you do owe me a massive favor for saving your mother."
"Name it," Silas says. He sounds eager to clear his debt.
"I need a commercial lease," I tell him. "I want a space directly near the main entrance of Vanguard Medical University. Roughly one thousand square feet. It has to be a premium location with heavy daily foot traffic. Do you know anyone holding that kind of property right now?"
Silas lets out a loud, rough laugh. The sound grates painfully against my ear.
"Do I know anyone?" Silas repeats, his voice dripping with pure amusement. "Emily, I practically run that entire commercial block. I know every single landlord by their first name. You want a prime retail spot? I can get you the keys today."
"Show me," I demand. I refuse to take a criminal at his word without visual proof. "We will meet at the campus entrance. Today."
"Give me exactly one hour," Silas says.
I end the call and immediately open my messaging application. I type out a rapid, detailed text to Zoe and Fiona, instructing them to halt their depressing real estate search and prepare for an immediate property viewing. I grab my heavy leather backpack from the dining chair and head straight for the massive front doors of the estate.
Leo falls into step right beside me as I exit the mansion. He wears his usual dark athletic gear, his broad shoulders making him look incredibly intimidating. We climb into the back of the waiting black security SUV. The leather seats are wonderfully cool against my skin. The engine roars to life, carrying us away from the quiet, isolated mountain hills and back down into the dense, chaotic streets of the city.
We navigate the heavy afternoon traffic. The towering glass buildings of Vanguard City block out the harsh sunlight, casting long, dark shadows across the concrete pavement. I lean forward in my seat, watching the familiar street signs pass by the tinted windows.
"Stop the convoy here," I tell the driver.
We are still two full blocks away from the main campus gates. The driver taps the brakes, pulling the heavy SUV smoothly to the curb. Leo looks at me with a questioning, stoic expression.
"I do not want to pull up to the university in a massive fleet of armored vehicles," I explain. "It draws way too much attention, and I want to keep my profile low. We will walk the rest of the way."
Leo simply nods in agreement. We step out of the SUV and onto the busy sidewalk. The hot, thick city air hits my face instantly, smelling strongly of exhaust fumes and warm asphalt. We walk side by side toward the university.
The towering iron gates of Vanguard Medical University finally come into view. The sprawling, historic campus sits proudly behind the thick metal bars. Pristine red brick buildings and wide, meticulously manicured green lawns stretch out for miles. Large groups of students walk past us on the sidewalk. They carry heavy medical textbooks and talk excitedly about their upcoming laboratory sessions.
I stop walking for a brief second. I stand near the crosswalk, ignoring the loud rush of the traffic passing behind me.
I stare up at the grand stone archway marking the main entrance. A deep, profound sense of pride swells rapidly in my chest. This is the exact place my grandmother desperately wanted me to be. I fought through crushing poverty, intense emotional abuse from my own family, and a treacherous, freezing mountain gorge just to earn my spot here. I spent years studying in a cramped basement laboratory just to prove my intellect was valid.
In a few short weeks, I will officially walk through those iron gates as a specialized medical student. The sheer magnitude of that reality settles firmly and permanently into my bones. The sacrifices were entirely worth it.
A loud, aggressive engine revs nearby, violently cutting through my quiet reflection.
A sleek, heavily polished black Mercedes pulls up to the curb right in front of the main archway. The tires squeal sharply against the pavement. The heavy passenger doors swing open simultaneously.
Silas Hunt steps out onto the hot pavement. He wears a flashy, poorly tailored suit and an incredibly smug expression. Two massive, heavily muscled henchmen step out right behind him. They wear dark sunglasses and scan the busy street with aggressive, threatening postures.
Silas spots me standing near the crosswalk. A wide, arrogant smile stretches across his face. He raises his hand high in the air.
"Emily!" Silas calls out loudly over the noise of the traffic.