'What does do it right even mean?'
Eli pressed his forehead lightly against the cool glass of the passenger window, watching the blur of streetlights rush past.
The city looked alive out there—glittering, chaotic, endless—yet inside the car, the silence was suffocating.
Kairo's words gnawed at him, looping over and over in his skull like a curse.
'Do it right.'
What was the right way to save his family? To save his mom?
Start a fundraiser? Donate anonymously? He had no idea how to do that without screwing it up. Those things took time, effort, planning—things he didn't have the luxury of right now.
The only thing he knew how to do was throw money at the problem. He was rich now. Wasn't that what rich people did? Money equaled solutions.
But if that was wrong—if that was reckless—then what the hell was left?
His chest tightened. His reflection in the glass stared back at him, pale and haunted, eyes ringed with sleepless shadows.
