Chapter 2

The road was busier than the entrepreneurs opening their various stores and establishments. However, no one was more preoccupied than , who had been rushing about since early morning on this crucial day.

He flagged down a taxi, boarded it, and disembarked, repeating the process. But suddenly, the course of his life, which had been the same for several days, took an unexpected turn.

A loud honk interrupted his stride across the road. Startled, he glanced up, causing his stack of resumes and application letters to go flying, along with the precious regular McCafe Hot Coffee he had been sipping, which jolted him awake as it spilled onto his pristine white long sleeves.

As he stooped to pick up the scattered papers, an elderly driver stepped down from the bus that had stopped him in his tracks. The old man observed Atlas, as if assessing the young man's physical appearance: tall, handsome, fair-skinned, and with a well-built physique. These were the only things Mr. Connor noticed about him, wasting no time because he had something urgent to chase.

"Are you looking for a job?" he asked Atlas upon noticing the scattered resumes and application letters on the pavement. He stretched again that swollen side of his neck when he felt the after effects of the vase her wife hammered him earlier.

"Yes," Atlas replied, and then the sound of a car horn, loud and insistent, reached his ears, followed by another and another.

"Do you know how to drive this?" Mr. Connor tapped his Bugatti.

"Yes, I do!" Atlas replied quickly, thrilled that a seemingly kind and wealthy man was offering him an opportunity. In contrast, the drivers behind them, blocked by the car, were not happy at all.

"Then you're hired." Connor tossed the car key to Atlas. With a smile, Mr. Connor invited the young man to get into the car, and they hurriedly drove away.

Atlas started the car, eager to get away from the relentless honking of the impatient drivers they had disrupted during their brief conversation. He was happy because this had been his previous job, but he had been let go due to workforce reductions. He had been one of the lucky ones chosen to be let go, and that luck had led him to meet Mr. Connor.

"I'm driving a bit slow," Mr. Connor remarked, gazing at Atlas as he maintained a moderate pace behind the wheel.

"What should I do, Sir?" Atlas inquired.

"Speed up," came the response.

"Alright."

After a brief moment of Atlas accelerating at a faster pace, something he was accustomed to because he often drove at the speed he preferred, Mr. Connor seemed content.

"Good. You drive faster than my previous driver." Mr. Connor nodded, but soon his brow furrowed, and he focused on the road and the vehicles ahead of them.

"Why isn't he driving for you?" Atlas asked, curiosity getting the best of him, although he regretted it almost immediately as he felt somewhat out of place conversing with someone of Mr. Connor's stature.

"THERE! That's them!" Connor exclaimed loudly, causing Atlas to jump and nearly slam on the brakes.

"Where, Sir?" Atlas asked anxiously, scanning the road for the reason behind Connor's sudden outburst and mixed emotions.

Connor confirmed what he was referring to with a tremor in his voice, "That black car with the license plate PAQ-3435."

"Did he steal your car, Sir?" Atlas asked, starting to overtake the vehicles blocking their way to get a better view of what Connor was pursuing.

"Not just the car, my wife too," Connor stated without hesitation, his gaze never leaving his fleeing spouse and her lover, who was also their driver.

"Motherfucker," Atlas muttered, unable to contain his shock and anger upon learning this.

"Yeah, damn motherfucker indeed," Connor concurred, "Looks like they even took my attaché case."

Those two had some nerve, Atlas thought to himself.

"What about your kids, Sir? Are they safe?" Atlas finally managed to ask. Why is he even asking him? Is this his way to ease himself from anxiousness? He shook his head and tsk-tsked again.

"They took them too..." Connor replied, surprising his conversational partner, "...their child."

Atlas could only shake his head, again, in disbelief and remained silent. He is so unlucky, he thought to himself, again.

"My wife got pregnant by our chauffeur," Connor revealed, allowing Atlas to pass other vehicles trying to get ahead of them.

"Wow! So why are we still chasing them, Sir?" Atlas asked, his nervous heart pounding faster.

Connor pulled out a gun.

"O-kay...?" Atlas stammered, shifting his gaze between the fleeing cars and the pointed gun in Connor's hand.

"Do you know how to shoot?" the boss inquired, caressing the gleaming gun, which appeared brand new.

"Yes, Sir," Atlas responded quickly, even faster than the Bugatti he was driving. Nervousness coursed through him. Oh, what the fuck is going on? His words at the back of his head is driving the hell out of him.

"Good." His boss remained composed. "In 2 kilometers, we'll reach the mountain trail, and that's when you'll use your gun."

Mountain trail... use my gun, huh? Are we going to execute some action scenes from a Tom Cruise or James Bond movie here? He swept all those thoughts.

"Yes, Sir." Atlas knew that at this moment, Connor wanted to seek revenge against his unfaithful wife through violence.

Once more, Mr. Connor spoke, determined in his plan to deal with the two betrayers, "Don't be afraid, my boy! I've got your back. I'll reward you handsomely, with an early bonus of up to a million dollars, if you satisfy me with your performance."

Atlas swallowed hard. He had no idea what he had gotten himself into. He hoped he wouldn't come to harm, but at this point, there was little he could do. He desperately needed the money to redeem the title to his family's mortgaged house and land. It was the only inheritance left by his deceased parents, and if he lost it, it would feel like losing half his life.

But just as the lives of his parents had been lost, there were other lives teetering on the brink of loss at this moment.

"It's karma time! Bitches! Who-hoo!" Mr. Connor yelled, a far cry from the composed and affluent man Atlas had met earlier. It was as if he had transformed into someone else entirely.

Gunshots rang out, led by Connor. Atlas, on the other hand, struggled to decide what to prioritize-should he steer the car, return fire on Connor's command, or dodge the bullets coming their way?

"Sir, they have guns too!" Atlas exclaimed, his hands trembling as if his pounding heart had relocated to his wrists.

"Yeah, you're right." Connor holstered his gun once more. "I wish I hadn't taught my wife how to shoot. Turns out she's using it against me too. But okay, they've really pissed me off. Just focus on driving and avoiding the bullets. I've got this shit."

Connor now held a large rifle while Atlas clutched the steering wheel of the Bugatti. Once Connor was sure of his target, he unleashed a series of shots at the pursuing vehicle, resulting in an explosion. The flaming wreckage tumbled down the side of the cliff, near the ocean below, at the base of the mountain road, carrying Connor's unfaithful wife and the child of their former family driver.

Atlas watched the car roll down, flames and smoke billowing around it, a tragic end to a tangled web of deceit and revenge.

"Thank goodness we're not married," Mr. Connor breathed a sigh of relief. He took a deep breath and said, "Let's go home."

The two remained silent throughout the journey back to Mr. Connor's supposed residence. The only sounds were the soothing voice guide from G****e Maps, providing directions to ensure Atlas didn't get lost in this unfamiliar territory.

Once they arrived, Atlas couldn't help but feel a sense of vertigo as he gazed up at Connor's towering mansion. It was the first time he had ever seen such a colossal house in real life. They walked together for a few minutes, and what puzzled Atlas was the absence of any other household staff or security personnel at Mr. Connor's home.

"It's hard to trust. You might be wondering why I don't have any attendants, right? My own wife and the only trusted servant I had betrayed me," Connor said as he led the way.

Atlas couldn't blame his employer, knowing the details of what had transpired, based on Connor's revelations earlier. He had never expected this kind of welcome when he took on this new job.

Connor's question about Atlas' commitment hung in the air, leaving Atlas with a sense of unease. He gave a reserved nod, signifying his determination to see this job through.

The next inquiry, however, caught Atlas off guard. Connor asked, "Do you know how to cook?" It was clear that Atlas was taken aback by the question. His hesitation didn't escape Connor's notice, prompting him to press further, "Well, do you?"

The weight of potential unemployment bore down on Atlas, and he responded hurriedly, "I do, Sir!" Fear of losing this newfound opportunity gnawed at him.

"Good. Go to the supermarket and buy what you need. Just call me when the food's ready. I'll be resting in my room," Connor instructed before leaving Atlas to face the impending culinary challenge.

Atlas sat behind the wheel, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty. How on earth was he going to prepare a meal for someone as discerning and wealthy as Connor? He could barely fry an egg properly most times, let alone craft a meal worthy of this new employer.

It was as if history were replaying itself.

As Atlas navigated the car down the road, he couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. The scenario mirrored the earlier incident when a woman had suddenly darted across the road, causing Atlas to slam on the brakes, his heart pounding in his chest as he narrowly avoided a collision.

"Hey, are you even paying attention to where you're going?" the young woman scolded as soon as Atlas stepped out of the car.

Is she also looking for a job? Atlas wondered to himself. Without beating around the bush, he asked the young woman, "Do you know how to cook?"

"Yes!" the young woman replied abruptly. "Wait, are you crazy?"

Atlas had anticipated the girl's reaction, given the seemingly random question he had just thrown at her. "No, but I need your help. Can you come with me? Where are you heading?"

"That's none of your business!" the girl retorted, her irritation still evident on her face.

"I'll pay you for the entire day; please, help me," Atlas pleaded desperately. He was determined not to let this job slip away, especially when it was right within his grasp.

"You're not a bad person, are you?" the young woman asked, sensing the urgency in Atlas' plea.

Atlas reassured her with a sincere "No."

"You seem trustworthy enough, okay," the girl finally conceded, her initial reluctance giving way to understanding.

Atlas explained his predicament to her, and she chuckled, finding his problem rather simple. They introduced themselves, quickly developing a sense of trust. It was amazing how quickly they seemed to connect.

Heather asked Atlas about his employer's dietary preferences-whether he was vegan, vegetarian, or something else entirely. Atlas couldn't provide a clear answer, so they decided to prepare both a vegetable dish and a meat dish to cover all bases.

"Why do we have to shop at this mall?" Heather questioned, well aware of the higher prices compared to typical markets.

"From the looks of it, boss Connor doesn't seem like someone who eats stuff bought from the local market or an ordinary grocery store," Atlas confidently asserted.

"That's what you said," Heather retorted as they made their way to the supermarket.

They began to pick out items, with Atlas grabbing things and Heather returning them to their proper places.

"You know, Dallas... you should just push the cart and let me handle this. You're just getting in the way," Heather suggested, growing slightly annoyed by Atlas' actions.

"Sorry," he replied, "and sorry, it's Atlas, not Dallas."

"Okay," Heather replied without glancing at Atlas, focusing on selecting the best vegetables.

"Heather," Atlas called out.

"Yes, what?" Heather turned to face him, holding a bunch of carrots lightly.

"I just showed you the right way to say people's names," Atlas teased, giving her a smirk that caused her to roll her eyes in annoyance.

"Whatever, Dallas... Atlas... meh!" Heather exclaimed, tossing the carrots playfully at Atlas' face.