Levi had just left the Edward family mansion and sent to the market by Sarah Edwards his adoptive mother. He was sent on foot a contrast to how the rest of his siblings left the homestead.
He quickly brushed away the thoughts about june popping up in his bathroom unannounced with the excuse that her bathroom was not working.
The street market buzzed with life under the grey swell of a late Chicago afternoon. Vendors shouted prices across colorful stalls while children weaved between carts and baskets, laughter trailing behind them like kites on a breeze. The air smelled of spices, roasted corn, and the thick aroma of city sweat. Levi moved carefully, gripping a brown paper bag filled with green vegetables in one hand and balancing a glass bottle of olive oil in the other.
He was dressed in a faded hoodie—once black, now a tired gray—his jeans patched at the knees and his sneakers dull and worn at the soles. His hands were dry from detergent, and his sleeves carried invisible stains from a thousand chores. But he walked tall, eyes forward, calm as ever. No one here knew what he carried on his shoulders. That's the way he liked it.
Just as he handed over a few crumpled bills to a vendor, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He frowned. No one ever called him.
Fishing it out, he stared at the unknown number. The screen blinked insistently.
He hesitated, then answered. "Hello?"
There was a pause, then a crisp, professional female voice spoke, clear and confident.
"Is this Levi Wings?"
He blinked. "...Yeah?"
"This is Julin Park," the woman said. "I'm calling on behalf of Oakland Mail Services. You've received a confidential parcel at our main office here in Chicago. It's marked strictly private—delivery authorized to recipient only."
Levi shifted the bag under his arm. "Wait. What?"
"We've been instructed to verify your identity before proceeding. Just to confirm, you are Levi Wings, correct?"
He glanced around, half-expecting someone to jump out and laugh. "Uh... yeah, but... sorry, did you say confidential parcel? For me?"
"Yes, Mr. Wings," she said, as if the name belonged to someone with a title, not a nineteen-year-old wearing secondhand sneakers.
His chest tightened. "Mr. Wings"? No one called him that. They barely called him by name at all.
"I think you've got the wrong person," he said. "Nobody sends me anything. Especially not 'confidential' stuff."
"According to our records," she said, unfazed, "your name and college ID were attached to the shipment. The item was marked urgent and secure."
Levi's jaw tensed. "Is this some joke?"
"No, sir."
"Did Brianna Cook put you up to this?"
A pause.
"Excuse me?" Julin asked, confused.
"Brianna Cook. Blonde, walks around like the earth owes her a runway. If she sent you, tell her the prank didn't work, alright? I'm not falling for another one of her games."
"Mr. Wings—"
"And if Gianna's in on this—my dear sister—tell her I'll still take the trash out and polish the damn floors like I always do. She doesn't need to get creative."
"I wasn't sent by anyone," Julin said, more firmly now. "You can look up our branch online. I'm just the liaison. I don't know anything about your acquaintances. I'm just doing my job."
Levi stared at the ground, lips parting slightly, breath slowing.
For a long second, neither of them spoke.
Finally, he shook his head. "Look... I don't know what kind of mix-up this is, but you've got the wrong guy. So maybe check again."
He hung up.
The market noise rushed back in like a wave, overwhelming and sudden. Levi stood still for a moment, the phone still in his hand, staring at nothing.
What the hell was that?
A confidential parcel? A woman calling him Mr. Wings?
Someone must be playing with me.
He paid for the rest of the groceries and slung the cloth bag over his shoulder. It tugged down heavily against his hoodie as he made his way back through the streets. The sun had dipped behind the buildings, painting the pavement in long blue shadows. Cold wind slipped through the alleys and under his clothes, and he pulled his sleeves tighter around his wrists.
His mind raced.
Brianna Cook… that had to be it.
She'd humiliated him enough times in front of everyone at Eagleside College—mocking his shoes, his lunch, the fact that he came to school on the bus while she was chauffeured in a town car. She once spilled coffee over his notes on purpose and said, "Oops. Didn't know trash was recyclable."
Gianna laughed every time.
His own adoptive sister.
She called him "the leech." Claimed he was freeloading off her father's wealth, poisoning the Edwards name. Every moment at the mansion was a silent war with her. Passive-aggressive remarks at the table. Dirty laundry dumped outside his room. June, bless her, tried to intervene—but even she couldn't always hold back the tide.
Still, Levi never fought back. Never shouted. Never even raised his voice.
He just smiled.
Not because he wasn't angry, but because he couldn't afford not to smile. His whole life depended on keeping his mouth shut and his head down.
But now this call…
He shook his head again. Ridiculous. Just another twisted trick. Maybe Brianna had found a friend in the postal service. Or maybe Gianna was bored and creative.
As he reached the front gate of the mansion, he glanced at the phone once more.
No new calls.
Good.
He pushed the gate open and walked through the long garden path, the grass perfectly trimmed. The mansion towered ahead, marble columns glowing faintly under the porch lights. Luxury built like a fortress.
Levi stepped inside and closed the door behind him, the warmth swallowing him like a slow wave. From the dining room came the muffled sound of laughter—Gianna's voice, shrill and amused. Probably mocking someone again. Maybe him.
He walked past silently, his sneakers squeaking on the marble floor, groceries in hand, phone tucked into his pocket.
The call meant nothing.
He wouldn't think about it again.
That's what he told himself.
But deep inside, beneath all the layers of calm, something stirred.
Someone had called him Mr. Wings.
And that name, for once, didn't sound like a burden.
"Gianna's voice was still loud. Could she be laughing at him?" He wondered.