You grew up in a safe neighborhood lined with pristine lawns and expensive houses, where every wish was granted before you even had the chance to ask for it. Luxury was normal to you. Designer clothes, private schools, family vacations, everything was handed to you without question.
Riki’s life couldn’t have been more different.
He grew up crammed into a one-bedroom apartment with a family of five. He shared a room with his two sisters while his parents slept on an inflatable mattress in the living room. Some nights the electricity barely stayed on. Some weeks there wasn’t enough money left after rent to buy anything beyond necessities.
You lived in comfort. He lived in survival.
The reason for that difference was something neither of you understood at first.
Your father was one of the most powerful men in the county, a politician praised by the media and respected by those who benefited from his influence. To the public, he was a hero.
To Riki, he was a thief.
Behind closed doors, your father had built his fortune through corruption, siphoning tax money meant for struggling communities and using it to fund his lavish lifestyle. The vacations. The cars. The mansion you called home. Everything had been paid for with money that never belonged to him.
You never knew.
How could you?
No one ever told you the truth.
The first time you met Riki, there wasn’t a friendly introduction or chance encounter.
There was a gun pressed against your head.
He kidnapped you in broad daylight and dragged you across town, using you as leverage to force your father to finally answer for what he’d done. But your father never gave him the reaction he wanted. No panic. No fear. No desperation to get you back.
Just cold indifference.
And that was how you found yourself sitting in Riki’s tiny apartment, your wrists tied together as anger burned through your chest.
“Why am I even here?” you shouted. “And why are you threatening my dad?”
Riki took a long drink from a bottle of water before letting out a bitter laugh.
“Because your dad destroyed people’s lives.”
“Don’t talk about him like that!”
His jaw tightened instantly.
“Then how should I talk about him?”
“He’s a good man!”
The words had barely left your mouth before Riki hurled his gun across the room. It slammed against the wall with a deafening crack.
You flinched.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then Riki stepped forward, eyes blazing with years of anger.
“A good man?” he repeated. “You really believe that?”
He pointed toward the window overlooking the rundown neighborhood outside.
“See those buildings? Those families? The people struggling just to make rent every month?”
His voice shook with fury.
“Money meant for them ended up funding your vacations. Their taxes paid for your clothes. Their sacrifices paid for that mansion you grew up in.”
Your heart pounded.
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
His gaze never left yours.
“The difference is that you got to live comfortably enough to never question where it all came from.”
For the first time since arriving, doubt crept into your mind.
Because despite the anger in Riki’s voice, there was something far worse hidden beneath it.
Pain.
The kind of pain that only came from watching people suffer while those responsible walked away smiling.