The office was in chaos. Panic electrified the air as employees scrambled in every direction. This was never the kind of morning Pres Delhurs expected at work.
"What is going on?" he demanded, spotting Janet, one of the company executives, clutching a cardboard box as she stormed towards the elevators.
"Out of my way." She nearly knocked him over. He stumbled back, his briefcase hitting the floor.
Pres was twenty five years old with a white collar job that paid eight digits a month. He had a wife, Riya Delhurs, and a beautiful daughter, May. Life had been perfect. He never expected this.
"You better run, you idiot." Janet threw the words over her shoulder as she disappeared into the elevator.
The truth was, Pres was paid for doing nothing. His role at Janace Company was simple. George Sttenburg, his wife's brother, paid him to act as the public owner of the company that controlled the world's general exchange market. Now he walked into the building and found chaos.
He moved quickly toward his office, trying to maintain the billionaire act because that's how the world knew him. Workers streamed past him, rushing for the exits.
"Oh God, I need to call George." The words came out barely a whisper as he opened his office door. George couldn't lose control of the situation. George never lost control.
His office looked perfect as usual. The call box sat on his desk. He didn't know what was happening, but something was very wrong.
He breathed in. Out. Four times to calm himself. Then he removed his expensive coat and picked up the phone to dial George.
George answered immediately, like he'd been waiting.
"Yes, Pres." His voice was calm. Background sound suggested he was somewhere peaceful which made Pres relax a little.
"Bro, I just got to Janace. People are running everywhere. I don't know what's happening." He worked to keep his voice steady.
"I know what's happening," George answered coolly. "Your company has lost people's money. You've orchestrated the world's biggest scam in history. You've literally withdrawn all—"
"Don't call it my company," Pres snapped, finally registering the accusatory tone. "We both know—"
"Listen, Pres. You have one choice. Surrender yourself to the authorities and go to prison for two hundred years," George said, his voice flat. "Or wait for a mafia bullet. Some of your clients were rather... connected."
"No. You're kidding. You're fucking kidding me." The phone shook in Pres's hand. His throat tightened. "Why would you do this to me... bro?" The last word came out broken.
"Don't be a fool, Pres. We were paying you plenty for this." The line went dead.
The weight of it crashed over him. He was earning that much for this exact moment. How stupid he'd been to believe everything was legitimate when he signed that contract five years ago. For five years he'd lived better than most people ever would.
"No, no. Tell me this is a dream." Tears blurred his vision. Then reality synced back. He was a wanted man.
The authorities would storm the Janace building any minute. Worse, gangsters and mafia members had lost large sums of money. He wiped his tears, covered his face with his jacket, and slipped toward the back door.
He took the stairs fast, colliding with a few people on the way down. Lucky for him, none of them recognized his face. By the time he reached the bottom, his legs burned, but there was no time to rest.
Police sirens wailed outside the building. No way could he get to his Rolls Royce now. All he could think about was his family. He pushed through the back gate and ran.
Minutes felt like hours, but he made it. The security system recognized him and let him inside. He didn't have much time, but he'd risk everything for his family.
In the parking garage sat a 1955 Mercedes Benz 300 SLR Uhlenhaut Coupe. George's car. George was here.
The anger that surged through Pres's chest felt like fire. All these years he'd respected his wife's brother, never knowing how wicked the man truly was. He entered the house ready to unleash everything he felt.
The multi elevator, installed in his million dollar home to connect every floor, carried him to the living room.
The doors opened. What he saw couldn't be real. Riya was kissing George. His ten month old baby lay on the sofa nearby. They didn't even flinch when they saw him. His morning went from terrible to something beyond words.
"What are you doing here, honey?" Riya's voice was light, almost amused. "I expected you to be safe in a prison by now."
The casualness of it broke something inside him. It meant his wife knew everything. But why was she kissing George?
"Actually, I expected him." George spoke with a confidence that said Pres couldn't do anything about any of this. "Pres Delhurs, meet Riya. My lawful wedded wife. And my daughter."
Everything clicked into place. Now Pres understood why he'd only had sex once with Riya in their five years of marriage. Why she'd approached him even though he'd been terrified of her back then. They'd gone to college together, but she came from a rich family and Pres had never dared speak to her.
He remembered how she'd seduced him into accepting the Janace role, convinced him to hide his family's identity. They'd been planning this for years.
"I..." Words failed him. The anger drained away, replaced by pure embarrassment. He stepped backward into the elevator, the truth settling over him with absolute clarity.
He'd gone to college with Riya. "How stupid was I to believe she had a brother I never knew about?"
The elevator opened to the outside. He walked through the gate and stood still on the sidewalk. He didn't think. Didn't plan. Just waited for whatever fate had in store.
In the distance, cars approached. He didn't care anymore. What else was he fighting for? The cars got closer. Mafia vehicles. Men leaned out the windows and opened fire. He'd played with their money. The result was inevitable.
He felt the bullets tear through him. Felt his body thrown backward. Felt himself hit the ground.
Everything went dark. Then his eyes opened to something impossible. Words hung in the air before him, glowing like they were burned into reality itself.
[Player chosen for the Future Alignment System.]
[Objective: Future Repair.]
[Your life has been reset to six and a half years back.]
Pres blinked but the words didn't disappear.