It was precisely 4 pm when Ben stepped through the familiar front gate of his firm, heading home, a wave of relief washing over him as he anticipated the peace of his own space back home. He intended to return early, settle in comfortably, and mentally prepare for his impending meeting with the private detective. The clock ticked towards 6:15 pm by the time he finally crossed the threshold of his house. He set his briefcase down heavily on the inviting couch, its fabric soft against the weight.

With a rumble in his stomach urging him onward, he ambled into the kitchen, his thoughts on a quick bite before focusing on matters at hand. While the aromatic remnants of last night's shawarma heated in the microwave, he cheerfully poured bright, refreshing fruit juice into a glass, its vibrant colours tantalizing his senses. Just then, the sudden chime of the doorbell echoed through the house, shattering the quiet.

"Don't worry, I'll get it!" Scott shouted from somewhere down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he bounded to the door. Ben smiled to himself, grateful for Scott's willingness to help. He resumed his task, focusing on the shawarma when Scott re-entered the kitchen, a tall figure following closely behind him: Detective Bruce.

"Mr. Bruce is here!" Scott announced with a hint of excitement before retreating to his room, leaving the two men alone in the cosy kitchen filled with the savoury aroma of Middle Eastern spices.

Ben turned to the detective, offering him a drink in a gesture of hospitality. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked, his voice warm.

Bruce, composed and serious, shook his head gently. "No, thank you. It's too late in the day for that," he replied, his gaze scanning the tidy kitchen. Ben nodded, understanding the detective's professional demeanour. He gestured for Bruce to take a seat on the wooden stool at the kitchen counter, its surface still cool and smooth.

As soon as Bruce settled in, Ben leaned forward slightly, the air thick with anticipation. "I believe you are already aware of the car accident I was involved in," he began, the weight of the topic hanging between them.

Detective Bruce straightened his posture, his expression unyielding. "Yes, it was all over the news. One cannot miss it, even if they try," he responded, his tone neutral yet knowing.

Ben offered a sidelong smile, the corners of his mouth twitching with a mix of humour and tension. "Yes, you're correct-it certainly garnered a lot of attention. But I have a feeling that's not how you came by your information, would you agree?" His eyes narrowed slightly, casting a suspicious glance at the detective.

The detective's expression remained unchanged, resolute. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Adam," he replied coolly, matching Ben's intensity with a steady gaze.

"Come on now, Detective Bruce," Ben said with an edge of confidence in his voice. "I can't believe that when Mr. MarQueen recruited your services, he didn't brief you about me at least a little. He must have painted me as no fool." Ben leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking onto Detective Bruce's. "I know it was you who pulled me out of the wreckage that night. You're the mysterious stranger who called the paramedics and the police, aren't you?"

He paused, studying Detective Bruce's expression, hoping for a crack in his stoic facade. But the detective remained impassive. Ben continued, his tone shifting to an accusatory whisper, "In fact, I suspect that your presence that night wasn't a mere coincidence. I believe Mr. MarQueen hired you to keep tabs on me, to protect me from the enemies I've ruffled feathers with since arriving here. Yet, in your efforts to stay hidden, you inadvertently allowed danger to creep up on me. By the time you made the connection, it was already too late."

Detective Bruce shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat as Ben's words hung in the air. "It's all right, Mr. Bruce. I'm not here to interrogate you. We both know you were following orders from my concerned boss and future stepfather. Mr. MarQueen can be fiercely protective, especially when it comes to those he cares about. It's a trait I can't help but share," Ben added, raising an eyebrow.

"What led you to believe it was me who rescued you from the wreck?" Bruce asked, intrigued.

Ben took a moment to sip his drink, the atmosphere thick with tension. "I wasn't fully conscious when you pulled me from the car. I was dazed from hitting my head against the steering wheel, but your voice cut through the chaos-I recognized it immediately when you called the police."

Bruce seemed impressed; Ben could see the flicker of acknowledgement in his eyes. "But since you know about my involvement in your survival, what's the real reason for summoning me here?" Bruce challenged.

Ben leaned in, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. "It's quite simple, really. Just recently after the accident, I received a video of someone lurking, watching me at an event a few weeks ago, I can't shake the feeling that it's all connected. I was hoping we could join forces to uncover who this person is. After all, Mr. MarQueen tasked you with revealing the shadow behind my accident before I do it myself, just to keep me out of harm's way."

He saw doubt flicker across Bruce's face. "Think about it," Ben urged, his words gaining momentum. "By teaming up, you could discover who's behind this and keep a close watch on me at the same time. It's a win-win for both of us."

The silence that followed was electrifying, leaving the detective to weigh his options.

***

As the clock ticked closer to 10, Ben ushered Detective Bruce to the door, their minds still buzzing from the extensive hours spent poring over footage from the incident the security man described at the Glam and Class Dream Boutique. The dimly lit video revealed a shadowy figure lurking near a white car, intently watching the unfolding events from a distance. The man's face remained shrouded in darkness, almost as if he were a ghost who knew exactly how to avoid the prying eyes of the security cameras. Yet, in his haste to escape the notice of the security man, he made one crucial mistake.

Just as he turned to his car, poised to open the driver's side door, moonlight glinted off the window, casting a fleeting reflection of his face-an intriguing glimpse captured at the precise moment they froze the frame. Though it wasn't enough to discern his identity, it was a tantalizing lead.

"Let me run this by a tech whiz I know," Detective Bruce suggested, eyes glinting with purpose. If they could enhance that image, they might finally unmask the culprit that was behind your accident.

Ben nodded a wave of optimism washing over him as he handed over a copy of the tape. They were closer than ever to uncovering the identity of the person responsible for his accident. But as he walked back inside, a smile playing on his lips, his phone rang-cutting through the moment like a cold breeze. He glanced at the caller ID, and his heart sank. It was a call from the last person he wanted to hear from right then.

"What do you want, Mr MacLen?" he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain as he steps out onto the balcony, phone pressed firmly to his ear.

"Good evening to you," replies Mr. MacLen, his tone surprisingly calm. "I heard from your mother about your accident. As your father, I believe I have a right to know what happened. Just so you're aware, I didn't call her. By the way, how are you holding up?"

Ben chuckles bitterly. "Well, I figured you'd be popping the champagne, celebrating my misfortune."

"Is that really how you see me?" His father's voice tightens with hurt. "Some kind of monster who takes pleasure in your pain? For heaven's sake, Ben, I would never wish you harm. I may not win any 'Father of the Year' awards, but I genuinely care about you."

Ben leans over the balcony railing, staring into the twinkling city below, feeling the weight of his father's words. With a resigned sigh, he finally responds, "I'm fine. Just a broken arm and the doctor says it's healing beautifully."