Chapter 48: Fallen from Grace
Horace Lim sat alone in his home office, the meager light from a single bulb casting long, eerie shadows around him. Everything had been utterly ransacked and destroyed the night that he and his family were abducted by the Amos family, save for a worn-out wooden chair and a table. They served as a stark reminder of how far he had fallen.
Once, he had been a man of honor, a prominent figure in the city of Dalton. His name was once one of dignity and respect. He used to stride the streets of Dalton with his head held high and his heart filled with pride. He had been a man of the people, a beacon of hope in the dark times that the city had faced.
Now, he found himself a shell of his former self, his spirit crushed under the weight of his own choices. His body was weary from the pain and the persistent use of crutches. His leg constantly throbbed, an agonizing reminder of Dent Amos’ brutality.
He was once proud to be the owner of the Luxe Luminary Gallery, a place that had been the pride of Dalton. He had dedicated his life to preserving and showcasing the rich history and art of the city. However, as Dalton’s economic conditions worsened, he struggled to make ends meet. The once-thriving gallery had struggled to stay afloat, and he could no longer afford to maintain the vast collection of exhibits.
In his desperation, he started selling off the exhibits, one by one. Each sale felt like a piece of his soul being ripped away, but he had no choice. He had a wife and daughter to provide for, and he would do whatever it took to ensure their safety and comfort.
As he delved deeper onto this path, he began hosting black market auctions for wealthy collectors. These auctions were a far cry from the legal and dignified events he used to host at the gallery. They were secretive, conducted under the cover of darkness, with items of questionable legality.
Each auction was a nail in the coffin of his honor and dignity. With each passing event, he sank deeper into the world of deceit and corruption. He was no longer Horace Lim, the respected gallery owner. He had become a shadowy figure, a man who dealt in secrets and hidden transactions.
The realization of how far he had fallen hit him like a punch in the gut. He had traded his honor and dignity for survival. He had lost his way and didn’t know how to find it back. His heart was filled with regret and sorrow, the guilt of his actions weighed heavily on him.
As he sat there, alone, he found himself longing for simpler times. He yearned for the days when he could look at himself in the mirror without the shadow of guilt clouding his reflection. He yearned for the days when he was a man of honor, worthy of his wife and daughter’s love and respect.
His computer chimed, signaling the arrival of another RSVP. This was from one of the many enthusiasts he had invited to the uniquely large auction the Amos brothers had forced him to host. Their collection was indeed impressive, filled with legendary and grand pieces stolen from famous exhibits, museums, and private collections of the wealthy elite.
However, Horace was acutely aware that there was more to this auction than what the Amos brothers had revealed. The brutal abduction of his family and his subsequent release was more than enough to indicate that Kain Amos had plans beyond the confines of a simple auction.
Thankfully, the police didn’t prod too deeply into the circumstances surrounding his injuries when he returned. Just as Kain instructed, Horace told them that he had a terrible fight with his wife. While they seemed skeptical, they didn’t question him too much. Possibly because of his past reputation as a respected figure in Dalton, they agreed to suspend their investigation.
Tears streamed down Horace’s face as he contemplated the horrifying repercussions that would befall his wife and daughter if the police got involved or if he failed. The thought of Kain unleashing his brutalities upon his loved ones was unbearable. He was trapped, and his family’s safety hung by a thread.
What would the Halls have done?
In the end, even his greatest benefactors would not be able to help him as they had so many years ago. The Emikos, Grutens, Fangs, Takaris, Jones, and even the Martins had all slowly stopped their support for the gallery over the years. They had all pledged to support the culture and growth of Dalton, but as times got tougher, everyone found a reason to miss or forget a donation.
The computer chimed again, pulling him from his thoughts. Another RSVP to the auction. Thankfully, with the combination of his contacts and the list from the Amos brothers, there were already over a hundred guests who had RSVP-ed as attending. That was enough to avoid having his other leg broken by Dent Amos. Horace squirmed as he recalled Kain’s threat if he couldn’t get enough guests for the auction.
The memory of the call from several days ago was still fresh in Horace's mind. Kain had called under the pretense of ‘motivating’ him, but Kain’s true intentions were clearly to torment him and tighten the leash.
Kain’s malicious voice echoed over the phone, a chilling menace in his tone.
“You know, Horace, it’s quite a difficult job keeping my men off of your wife and daughter. Why, who knows what would happen if I were to leave their cage unlocked? It’s really for their own protection. That daughter of yours looks quite…exquisite.”
“P-please,” Horace stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m already doing everything you asked. I assure you, there will be plenty of guests for the auction.”
His voice broke as he begged.
“Please, don’t hurt my wife and daughter.”
Kain had cackled in glee as Horace pleaded, his voice trembling with fear. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Kain’s laughter was enough to trample Horace’s pride, a gut-wrenching reminder of the man’s ruthless nature and power over his life.
Horace had tried to reason with Kain, explaining the nature of high-profile individuals and their usual RSVP habits. These individuals, he had pointed out, often took their time before confirming their attendance to such events. More often than not, most RSVPs would only start flooding in during the week leading up to the event. Kain, however, had shown no interest in his explanations. He had cut Horace off mid-sentence, clearly unimpressed and unwilling to listen.
Instead, Kain boasted about the list he had acquired from the Gund Intelligence Network. He was confident that this list would make the task of finding more attendees relatively easy.
“Tell you what,” Kain said slyly, “if you get two hundred and fifty guests from the list I sent you to attend, I’ll let your wife and daughter go back to Dalton.”
Horace could hardly believe what he was hearing.
“R-r-really? Y-you’ll let them come back?” Horace sputtered.
“Yes,” Kain taunted with chilling amusement. “But only if you meet the target. Fail, and well…”
He let his words trail off, the implied threat hanging in the air.
“Let’s just say that I’ll leave their care to my men.”
The offer had taken Horace by surprise. He was well aware that Kain couldn’t be trusted. Kain had proven time and again that he was ruthless and unpredictable. Yet, Horace was left with little choice. The safety and freedom of his wife and daughter were at stake. If there was even the slightest chance that meeting Kain’s demands would ensure their release, he had to take it. Despite his reservations and fears, he had to try.
Horace had spent the following days doing everything in his power to ensure the guests’ attendance. He employed every strategy he knew and reached out to every contact he had. With each new RSVP, it seemed his efforts were starting to pay off. The RSVP count had reached an impressive number, surpassing Kain’s initial demand of one hundred. Yet, the target of two hundred and fifty guests remained unmet.
Horace could only wait and hope that more guests would RSVP soon. In the meantime, he had to focus on the logistics for the upcoming auction. He’d have to coordinate with his staff for the setup, transport and organize the pieces from the Amos’ collection, assess authenticity, and ensure security measures, all in addition to managing the guest list. He also had to prepare himself mentally for the event, as he would be the one to host and face the wealthy and dangerous guests.
Tomorrow, he would have to find a way to explain his current physical condition and the recent unfortunate incident to his employees. The task would not be an easy one. It required him to tread a fine line between revealing enough to satiate their curiosity and concerns, yet not so much that it would endanger them or give away the precarious situation he found himself entangled in.
Horace was deeply afraid for his employees. He was well aware of the ruthlessness of the Amos brothers and the lengths they were willing to go to achieve their goals. If any of his employees were to unwittingly draw the attention of the Amos brothers, the consequences could be dire. They were innocent, oblivious to the dangerous game that was playing out behind the scenes. He would have to maintain a sense of normalcy for their sake while simultaneously dealing with the threats and demands of the Amos brothers.
As for the sudden announcement of the auction, Horace found a sliver of relief. His employees were fairly accustomed to such events by now. The Luxe Luminary Gallery had seen its fair share of auctions over the years. While the circumstances surrounding this particular auction were far from ordinary, Horace believed that he could explain it to his employees without raising any alarm bells, without hinting at the dangerous undercurrents driving it.
Copyright © 2024 by A. J. Knight
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email Hello@tmDavidHall.com with the subject line “Attention: Permissions Coordinator.”
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.