This Crazy Rich Boy

When Jake Magno opens the door, his face turns white as sheet.

"Gabriel?" he mutters, disbelieving.

Gabriel Tan, who looks every inch like he'd just walked out of a board room meeting with his immaculate Armani suit and slicked back hair, says nothing. He stares at Jake, his eyes cold as metal.

Jake tries to grin, but it must have come out as a grimace. "G-Gabriel, I'm not sure about the reason for this visit—n-not that I don't like getting visited by my boss at an ungodly hour, but a little enlightenment would make a world of difference."

"Where is she?" Gabriel says. He steps into the threshold.

"What do you mean? Who's she?" Jake says.

"Jake," he says, turning to the man who's still trying to put on his pants. "Look at me. Make a long, hard, discerning look."

"How do you mean?"

"Look at me. Tell me what you see."

"I-I'm not sure what you're driving at…"

"When you look at me, do you see an idiot?"

"I, uhh…"

"Do you see an idiot whom you can trick into going around in circles, Jake?"

"Sir, I…"

"Answer!"

"Sir," Jake stammers. "Sir, I don't see an idiot, sir, with all due respect. I see a captain of industry. A man who knows what he wants and gets it. A man who deserves the utmost respect."

Gabriel Tan stands in the middle of Jake Magno's living room, like some larger-than-life god. "Then why in hell are you treating me like an idiot? When I ask you, 'Where is she?' The only response I expect is you pointing to me the exact direction of where I can exactly find her."

Jake says nothing. His heart pounds madly in his ċhėst. Already his mind calculates all the possibilities, as his immediate future flashes in his mind. If Gabriel Tan, his boss, discovers what he did, his life is over—he could go to jail. Maybe not even a regular jail, but the worst kind of jail imaginable—Gabriel has incredible political connections, and he holds the puppet strings that limit to certain ends the actions of a few well-known and important people. Gabriel could easily make his life hell on earth. And that's only for starters. What about the career he has built over the years? His properties? His life of leisure? The things he enjoys? He would lose every single thing. As he stares at Gabriel Tan behave in his own house like this man owns him, owns the whole world, Jake Magno realizes that his entire life has fused into a singular, pin-point gestalt: this moment is the trigger, here lies the crossroads. To be or not to be?

To let Gabriel Tan find out, or not?

As Jake slowly backs away, his hand searches for something behind him, something he knows is there, something he'll recognize just by touch.

His metal baseball bat.

Gabriel doesn't realize it, but Jake has secretly gotten hold of the bat, holding it behind him.

"I ask you one last time," Gabriel mutters, turning to him. "Where. Is. She?"

"And I'm telling you, sir, again, I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm here all alone. Can't a man enjoy a few moments to enjoy by himself after a long, tiring day at work?"

The look on Gabriel's face says he doesn't buy a shred of what Jake said. He looks around. He knows this kind of house. It's quite simple. In one of his real estate development companies, he championed this kind of design because it's simple, cheap to build, and yet can be sold at a princely profit through sheer marketing trickery. One opening leads to the kitchen and to the backyard, and the other leads only to a short hallway to a couple of bedrooms.

And he's facing that very hallway right at this very moment.

"Jake, do I really have to go there and find out myself?"

Jake's face is filmed with sweat. "I'm not really sure what you mean, sir."

Gabriel gazes at him. He grits his teeth. Without a word, he ambles toward the hallway, toward that room whose door is slightly open, where a faint light glimmers from inside. Gabriel's sure of what he'll find there. Technology has never failed him. Technology has saved his life countless times, and he's sure, this is going to be among such times he's grateful for it.

He pushes the door wider. It's dark. There's a lampshade by the bed. And there, in bed, is a figure that seems so familiar he could name her even in this darkness.

A sudden rush of rage lodges in Gabriel's throat. "You animal—"

Maybe Gabriel is just lucky. Maybe it's his lightning reflexes. But Jake's baseball bat misses Gabriel's face by only a fraction of an inch, maybe smaller. The bat hits the door frame instead, and it makes a sound so loud and solid it seems to shake the house to its foundations.

Gabriel ducks as he grabs Jake's arm, twisting it in a firm grip.

Jake grimaces in pain. But he's a cornered animal, and he'll do anything to stop Gabriel from opening this can of worms. He head-butts Gabriel, forcing the man to loosen his grip. Jake uses it as opportunity to shove him away with all his desperate strength.

Gabriel Tan's body smashes against furniture. He tries to grab whatever he could, but there's nothing there but wall.

Jake's figure hovers over him, holding that baseball bat. If that bat hits the intended target, it would be the end for Gabriel Tan. But Gabriel's years of practicing Jiu-jitsu will now be put to the test—he chambers both his legs like a ċȯċked gun, and doesn't wait for Jake to make use of that bat—he uses both legs to kick Jake in whatever body part is within reach. Jake doubles over as he's hit in the groin.

Gabriel is up on his feet in an instant, and he grabs Jake with both arms, using his knee to repeatedly kick the other man in the ċhėst. Then he uses his elbow to make one last, powerful strike to Jake's face—and Jake collapses on the floor.

Jake groans in pain as he lies on his back. He tries to speak but he coughs up blood.

Gabriel is taking no chances—he kicks away the baseball bat, far away from Jake's reach.

"I'm done with you," Gabriel mutters.

"If you fire me," Jake manages to say, "I'll bring with me all of my clients. I'll bring down your company."

Gabriel shakes his head. "You poor thing. Sure. Bring down my company—which is only one among thousands I run. But I'll make sure you don't even go near any of my people again."

Jake says nothing; he wheezes, struggling to breathe. He holds up a hand, like he's about to say something. But then the hand drops and his whole body relaxes.

Gabriel stares at him for a long time. He's sure he didn't kill Jake. All those strikes were finely calculated, despite his rage. He only hit him in places that could make Jake lose consciousness. Nevertheless, Gabriel checks the man's pulse, and when he's sure Jake's fine—if being fine means being knocked out cold with your face covered in blood--he stands up and regards the whole scene of the crime.

He turns to the bedroom, where Claire lies, still unconscious. He carefully, almost as if in prayer, fixes Claire's clothes to cover her nȧkėdness. He tenderly buŧŧons up her blouse and checks her pulse. He reaches into a tiny fold in her blonde wig, and pulls out a tiny gadget, the size of a human mole: a GPS transmitter. He pinches it just a tiny bit, and the mole emits a faint red glow.

"I don't know what that ȧsshole gave you," he mutters to her in the darkness. "But we'll fix that. I'm sorry, Claire. I should have told you about everything. I should have told you that your life is at stake. That danger lurks at every turn. I'm the biggest ȧsshole here. And I'm sorry."

For a long time, he gazes at her face, so peaceful and beautiful despite every tragic thing that surrounds this moment. Then he carefully lifts and carries her into his waiting car. Dust billows as the car speeds down the road, toward the general direction of the Residence.

A few minutes later, the police arrive, surrounding Jake Magno's house.