Alex arrived at the community center after his first day in Technical Support. His hands were greasy from fixing a jammed paper shredder in Legal, his mind buzzing with the unfamiliar rhythm of daytime tower bustle. He wanted to see Sofia, to see the new art supplies in action, to find some anchor in the chaotic shift his life had taken.
He found Ms. Flores in her tiny office. Her usual warmth was gone, replaced by a weary sadness. Sofia sat nearby, coloring fiercely, her face stormy.
"Alex," Ms. Flores said, her voice tight. "Sofia told me about your new job. Day shift. That's… good." The lack of enthusiasm was palpable.
"Is everything okay?" Alex asked, sensing the tension. "Sof?"
Sofia didn't look up. "Ms. Flores is sad. About the paints."
Alex frowned. "The paints? What about them? Did something happen?"
Ms. Flores sighed, rubbing her temples. "We got a phone call last night. Anonymous. A man. He said… he said the art supplies weren't a gift. Not really. He said they were from Ethan Thorne. Blood money. Guilt money for ruining Sofia's painting and suspending the roof donation. He said Thorne is playing with us. That we shouldn't trust him." She looked at Alex, her eyes searching. "Do you know anything about this, Alex? Is it true?"
Ice flooded Alex's veins. *Blood money. Guilt money.* The words were like knives. Only one person knew about the painting, the suspension, the anonymous nature of the gift, and carried that much raw, specific fury towards Thorne. *Marco.*
"Who… who was the caller?" Alex asked, his voice barely a whisper, already knowing the answer.
"He didn't say," Ms. Flores replied. "But he sounded… angry. Drunk, maybe." She looked devastated. "Those supplies… they meant so much. To the kids, to me. A little bit of hope, you know? And now… it feels tainted. Like accepting them means forgiving him for what he did. Or being bought off."
Sofia finally looked up, her eyes wide and hurt. "Did Mr. Thorne really send them, Alex? Is he just being mean again?"
Alex felt sick. Marco's jealousy, his helpless rage, had lashed out at the most vulnerable target – the center, Sofia's joy. He'd poisoned the one small, good thing that had happened. "I… I don't know for sure who sent them, Sof," Alex said, forcing the words out. "But… whoever called… they were wrong to say that. The supplies are here. They're for you. For the art room. That's what matters. Don't let anyone take that away." The words felt hollow. The damage was done.
Ms. Flores offered a weak, unconvinced smile. "Maybe you're right, Alex. It's just… hard to feel grateful when it feels like a slap in disguise."
Alex left the center soon after, the image of Sofia's confused hurt and Ms. Flores's crushed hope burning behind his eyes. He found Marco at the usual diner, already nursing a beer, his eyes bloodshot, avoiding Alex's gaze.
Alex slid into the booth, the vinyl seat creaking ominously. "You called the center," he stated, his voice dangerously calm.
Marco flinched, then set his jaw defiantly. "Yeah. I did. Someone had to tell them the truth. Open their eyes to what Thorne is."
"The truth?" Alex's voice rose, attracting glances from other booths. "You told them the supplies were *blood money*? You told Sofia her paints were *tainted*? Do you have any idea what you've done? You took something good, something that made them happy, and you *poisoned* it!"
"Good?" Marco slammed his hand on the table. "Nothing from that bastard is *good*, Alex! It's manipulation! It's him trying to buy your loyalty, make you forget what he did to us! To *me*! Shipping me off to that hellhole while he pulls you closer, gives you a fancy new title—"
"It's fixing toilets, Marco!" Alex yelled, leaning forward. "It's not a promotion! It's just a different kind of servitude! And I *haven't* forgotten what he did! But what *you* did? That was cruel. That was selfish! You hurt Sofia! You hurt Ms. Flores! Because you're jealous and angry and you took it out on the people *I love*!"
The words hung in the air. *"The people I love."* Not *you*. Not *us*.
Marco's face went white, then flushed dark red. The hurt in his eyes was raw, devastating. "The people *you* love," he repeated, his voice thick. "Yeah. Them. The center. Sofia. And him? Is he becoming one of them, Alex? The Ice Prince who owns you? Is that why you defend his twisted little gifts? Why you jump when he snaps his fingers and gives you a new job?"
"This isn't about Thorne!" Alex shouted, tears pricking his eyes. "This is about you! You crossed a line, Marco! You attacked the one thing I was trying to protect! You used Sofia's pain as a weapon!"
"Because I'm *losing* you!" Marco roared, surging to his feet. The diner fell silent. "Can't you see that? Every day you're in that tower, under his eye, impressing him with your skills, I lose you a little more! You think I don't see it? The way you talk about him now? Not just hate! There's… curiosity. Confusion. Like he's some fascinating puzzle! What's next, Alex? Admiration? *Gratitude*?"
He leaned across the table, his voice dropping to a fierce, broken whisper. "I've loved you since we were sixteen, Alex. Loved you through every stupid crush, every heartbreak. Been there, *always*. And now… now you're letting *him* in. The man who ruined us. The man who wants to own you. And I can't… I can't stand by and watch it happen." Tears welled in Marco's eyes, spilling over. "I love you, Alex. Not like a brother. *In* love with you. And it's destroying me watching you walk towards him."
Alex sat frozen, Marco's confession hitting him like a physical blow. The depth of the love, the years of hidden pain, the terrifying jealousy – it was a wave that threatened to drown him. He'd known, vaguely, but hearing it laid bare, twisted by anger and fear and the shadow of Ethan Thorne… it was overwhelming.
Marco straightened up, wiping his face roughly. "I can't do this anymore, Alex. Not like this. Watching you. Waiting. While he takes you apart piece by piece." He threw some money on the table. "I'm done." He turned and walked out of the diner, shoulders hunched against the rain, leaving Alex shattered and utterly alone amidst the stunned silence.
**(End of Chapter 25)**