The next morning, she went to the company gate to collect her final paycheck.
The security guards refused to let her in.
“Orders from above,” they said.
She turned to leave, but a sleek black car pulled up beside her. The tinted window rolled down slowly.
Michael Owen looked at her with quiet intensity.
“You saved my life,” he said softly. “Now it’s my turn to save yours.”
She hesitated, then stepped into the car.
Inside, the silence was thick. Michael removed his sunglasses, revealing pale skin and tired eyes.
“They fired you, didn’t they?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “They said I crossed a line.”
Michael turned toward her. “And what line is that? Saving someone’s life?”
She had no answer.
