Chapter 6 - the storm

"Grandma, I'm back," Tristin called, his voice echoing in the empty house. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the creak of floorboards under his feet. Concern flickered in his gut.

A muffled voice answered from upstairs. "Tristin? What time is it?" Her voice, though raised, held a tremor of worry. He winced.

"Sorry, Grandma. Lost track of time at Aunty Sylvia's," he mumbled, pushing open the kitchen door. The familiar scent of her stew did little to tempt his appetite.

"How is she?" Grandma appeared at the doorway, her face etched with lines deeper than usual.

"Holding on," Tristin said, his voice thick with a mix of sadness and frustration.

"I should visit her this week," Grandma declared, her eyes hardening with resolve.

"There's dinner in the fridge," she continued, her tone softening. "Help yourself. You're a big boy, coming home at these ungodly hours." A snort escaped her lips before she turned and shuffled towards the stairs.

Tristin wasn't hungry. Exhaustion gnawed at him, a dull ache behind his eyes. He decided a shower was what he needed. As the hot water cascaded over him, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He dismissed it as fatigue, the coolness of the tile floor grounding him when he stepped out.

The morning light felt harsh, the remnants of his dream clinging to him like cobwebs. He dragged himself out of bed, the feeling of sinking still heavy in his chest. Downstairs, Grandma bustled around the kitchen.

"Good morning, Grandma," he greeted, his voice hoarse.

She turned, her gaze sharp. "You look pale, Tristin. Are you alright?"

"Just a restless night," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "Same dream, over and over."

"The storm must have unsettled you," Grandma said, her voice laced with sympathy. "The hospital called this morning. They need retired nurses to help with the damage near the dam. Seems like the storm did a real number on those houses, resulting in many casualties."

Tristin felt a pang of guilt. "Are you going?"

"Can't just sit here while people need help, can I?" she replied, her chin set in a familiar, stubborn way.

He hugged her tightly. "Be careful, Grandma. Don't overdo it."

While waiting for the bus, Tristin's phone rang. He picked up. "Butler Steven, do you have news to report?" Butler Steven was his family butler in SunVille.

"Yes, young master. Something has happened. The truck driver who crashed your father's car, resulting in your parents' deaths, died this morning," Butler Steven reported.

Tristin clenched his fist hard, his nails almost digging into his skin. He took a long breath and asked in a cold voice, "How can a healthy middle-aged man who hasn't even been in prison for two weeks suddenly die?"

"From the report I received, he committed suicide by using the bedsheets to make a rope, then he hung himself," Butler Steven explained.

"Bullsh!t," Tristin retorted. "What about his transaction history? Did he or his family receive any money from an unusual source?"

"Young master, we already know that his family received a large amount of money, but the problem is that the money came from a cryptocurrency wallet called Crypbit. It's next to impossible to track who sent the money," Butler Steven said.

"So you're telling me that we couldn't protect our only lead, we couldn't make him talk, and now we have no other leads?" The more Tristin spoke, the colder his voice became.

Butler Steven murmured, unsure of what to say. Tristin was too angry to care. He couldn't understand why Butler Steven had handled the situation so poorly. Was it intentional, or was he just that incompetent?

Tristin took a deep breath to calm himself. "This suicide story is bullsh!t. Here's what you're going to do now: investigate everyone in that prison, from phone records to visitors. Monitor everyone and their families. I need to know everything that happened in that prison for the past two weeks and the next month. Do you understand, Butler Steven?"

"Yes, young master. I'll go all out on this matter," Butler Steven reassured.

"Alright, I need to go. The bus has arrived. I'll hang up now." With that, Tristin boarded the bus, his face full of rage. He hated having to depend on others, even though he had all the money and resources in the world but lacked trustworthy people. The people claimed to be loyal to his father, but they couldn't protect their master.

Tristin arrived at the school gate but didn't see Mr. Masombuka. He wanted to pick Mr. Masombuka's brain about the accident that took both his parents and almost killed him. He decided that if he needed to solve this case, he would have to do it himself, and for that, he needed strong and loyal allies. Bongsburg was where he would start building his force. With that thought, he picked up his phone and called Mr. Masombuka.

"Young master, is there anything I can help you with?" Mr. Masombuka's voice sounded on Tristin's phone.

"Mr. Masombuka, how come you're not at school?" Tristin asked.

"Young master, as you heard, the storm did a lot of damage near the dam. Unfortunately, my house was also affected, so I'm busy with the cleanup and trying to fix it up a bit," Mr. Masombuka explained.

"You're not hurt, right? Do you need my help? Is there anything I can do?" Tristin asked with concern. Whether Mr. Masombuka was trustworthy or not, Tristin still didn't know, but it didn't change the fact that Mr. Masombuka came to Bongsburg for his safety, so Tristin felt the need to repay his kindness.

"Thanks, young master. I wasn't hurt, and mostly my house is in good shape. It's the roof that has some damage," Mr. Masombuka said gratefully.

"Mr. Masombuka, send me your account number so I can transfer some funds for materials and to hire some helpers," Tristin commanded.

"Young master, there's really no need for that," Mr. Masombuka tried to refuse.

"Mr. Masombuka, you know it's easy for me to get your account number, right? So please don't force me to use a roundabout way when there's an easier way," Tristin said.

Mr. Masombuka knew that Tristin had that ability, so he didn't insist anymore. "Okay, young master. I'll do as you wish."

Soon, Tristin received Mr. Masombuka's account number. He didn't waste any time and transferred 200,000 Rands to Mr. Masombuka. Then he went to class, not knowing that Thomas's minion, Sipho, had already posted the info about Tristin on the school's page.