Not the soft red of warning, but the violent red of failure—the kind that mocked him with every flicker.
Candles bled downward on the chart, each one closing lower than the last, as if the market itself had decided he no longer deserved mercy.
Daniel Hayes sat on the edge of the bed in their small Chicago apartment, his elbows resting on his knees, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. Another trade had just closed.
–$1,247.63
His balance dropped again.
He exhaled shakily and leaned his head back against the wall.
The ceiling above him was cracked, the paint peeling in thin lines—imperfections he had promised to fix once Forex "finally worked."
It never did.
For two years, Daniel had chased the market like a drowning man chasing air.
He had watched tutorials late into the night, joined signal groups, paid mentors who spoke with confidence and showed screenshots of impossible profits.
He had believed them. Needed to believe them.
Because Forex was supposed to be his way out.
His way of giving his family a better life.
Instead, it had taken everything.
The room was quiet, broken only by the faint hum of traffic outside—the sound of Chicago never truly sleeping. His wife, Lena, lay beside him, facing the wall. She hadn't spoken to him properly in weeks. The warmth between them had faded long ago, replaced by tension thick enough to suffocate.
Daniel turned his head and glanced at her back.
Once, she used to ask him about his trades. Used to encourage him. Used to believe.
Now, she didn't even pretend.
His chest tightened as another thought crossed his mind.
His daughter.
Mia.
Earlier that evening, she had tugged at his sleeve, her eyes bright, her voice hopeful.
"Daddy, can we get ice cream tomorrow?"
Tomorrow.
He had smiled and nodded, even though he knew his account balance barely covered groceries.
"Tomorrow, princess."
The word echoed painfully now.
His phone vibrated.
Daniel frowned and looked down at the screen.
Unknown Number
A strange unease crawled up his spine.
He answered.
"Hello?"
"Is this Mr. Daniel Hayes?" a professional voice asked.
"Yes… this is him."
"This is Saint Louis Hospital, Chicago. Your daughter has been rushed into the emergency unit."
The world seemed to stop.
"What?" Daniel whispered. "What do you mean rushed in?"
"She collapsed at home and lost consciousness.
She's currently in critical condition.
You need to come immediately."
The phone nearly slipped from his hand.
"Is she alive?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"Yes, but sir—time is very important."
Daniel didn't say another word.
He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and was out the door in seconds, his heart pounding violently as he ran down the stairs.
Saint Louis Hospital stood tall and cold against the night sky, its bright lights cutting through the darkness.
Daniel burst through the emergency entrance, breathless, his chest burning.
"My daughter," he gasped to the receptionist.
"Mia Hayes.
She was brought in—"
"We know," she said gently. "Please wait. The doctor will see you shortly."
Waiting was torture.
Minutes dragged like hours. Daniel paced the corridor, rubbing his hands together, whispering prayers he hadn't spoken in years.
Every passing nurse made his heart jump.
Finally, a man in a white coat approached him.
"Mr. Hayes?"
"Yes," Daniel said quickly. "I'm her father. Please—tell me she's going to be okay."
The doctor's expression was calm, but his eyes were serious.
"Your daughter has internal bleeding," he said. "She needs emergency surgery. If we don't operate within the next few hours, she may not survive."
Daniel felt his knees weaken.
"How much?" he asked quietly.
The doctor hesitated for a brief moment before answering.
"The required deposit for the surgery and immediate care is $150,000."
The number crashed into Daniel's chest like a freight train.
"One hundred… fifty thousand dollars?" he repeated, barely able to breathe.
"Yes," the doctor replied. "Without the deposit, we cannot proceed."
Daniel laughed weakly, the sound broken and hollow.
"I don't have that kind of money," he said. "I don't even have a fraction of it."
"I'm sorry," the doctor said softly. "We'll give you a few hours to arrange it. That's the best we can do."
A few hours.
For his child's life.
"I'll get it," Daniel said desperately.
"I don't know how, but I will. Please… just give me time."
The doctor nodded once and walked away.
Daniel stood there, shaking.
He ran home like a man possessed.
When he pushed the door open, the apartment lights were on.
Lena was in the living room, dressed elegantly, her suitcase beside the couch.
She looked calm—too calm.
"Our daughter," Daniel said breathlessly.
"She's in Saint Louis Hospital.
She needs surgery. They're asking for money—we need to—"
Lena slid a folder across the table.
"Sign it."
Daniel froze.
He looked down.
DIVORCE PAPERS
His heart shattered.
"What is this?" he whispered.
"I'm leaving you," Lena said coldly.
"I've already signed my part."
Daniel stared at her in disbelief.
"Mia is dying."
"And I'm done suffering," she replied.
"I've met someone who can give me the life I deserve. A real man.
A rich and powerful one."
His voice broke.
"She's your daughter."
Lena looked away.
"I've made my choice."
The room spun.
With trembling hands and a numb heart, Daniel signed the papers.
He walked out without looking back.
The Chicago streets were cold, the night air biting into his skin.
Tears blurred his vision as he walked aimlessly, his world completely destroyed.
A horn blared.
Headlights rushed toward him.
Everything went white—
Then black.
When Daniel opened his eyes, he was lying on the road, people shouting around him.
"You almost got hit!"
"Are you okay?"
He sat up slowly, his head pounding.
Then—
Ding.
A mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
"Forex Trading System detected."
"Extreme emotional distress confirmed."
"Activation conditions met."
Daniel's breath caught.
"Do you wish to activate the Forex Trading System?"
His life was already ruined.
What more could he lose?
"Yes," he whispered.
"System activated."
A glowing interface appeared before his eyes.
For the first time the chat was not more red.