No Ransom For My Fake Family

The salesman stood there, pen hovering over the paperwork, waiting for my final word. I pointed to the sleek, matte-black silhouette of the luxury sedan in the center of the showroom and said, This is the one. Ill take it.

Right then, my phone vibrated. It was my brother, Tyler. When I answered, his voice was a jagged mess of sobs and gasps, as if he were drowning on dry land.

He told me his two boysmy nephewshad been kidnapped. The kidnappers were demanding two million dollars in ransom. He said he couldnt scrape together even a fraction of it and begged me, his big brother, to save the kids.

He promised, over and over, that hed pay me back every cent the moment he had it.

As a rising star in the Silicon Valley tech scene, two million was roughly what I cleared in a good month. It was a staggering amount to most, but for me, it was a business expense.

But I didnt hesitate. I didn't even soften my voice. I told him, "No. Im not giving you the money."

01

"The MSRP on this model is two million, including the custom trim..."

The salesman froze, his mouth hanging open as he stared at me. On the other end of the line, Tylers voice escalated into a raw, frantic scream.

"Logan! Youre seriously telling me youd rather spend two million on a damn car than save Ben and Toby? Theyre your own flesh and blood! Are those kids worth less than a piece of metal to you?"

Tylers voice was so loud it bled through the speaker, echoing in the hushed, expensive silence of the dealership. People at the nearby espresso bar turned, their eyes narrowing as they caught the drift of the conversation.

I ignored them. I walked a slow circle around the car, admiring the carbon-fiber accents.

"Do you have this in any other colors?" I asked the salesman, my tone conversational.

"We we have the 'Midnight Amethyst' as well. Its stunning. One moment, let me pull up the spec sheet for you."

"Don't bother," I said. "I'll take that one too."

The salesman blinked, convinced hed misheard. "Mr. Weaver? You mean you want two? Two identical cars in different colors?"

I nodded, my expression bored. "Exactly."

"Right away! Ill Ill get the contracts drafted immediately!"

The salesmans voice was a frantic, joyful chirp, a sickening contrast to the explosion of rage coming from my phone.

"Logan, have you lost your mind? Ben and Toby are waiting for that ransom! Youre their unclehow can you just sit there and let this happen?"

"They have a father," I said, my voice dropping into a cold, flat register. "Why is this my problem?"

There was a beat of silence. When Tyler spoke again, the rage had dissolved into a pathetic, watery whimper.

"Logan, please. You know Im broke. Ive lost everything on those bad investments. Im drowning in debt. Just lend it to me. Ill work for you, Ill be your slave, Ill do anything once the boys are safe."

I didnt say anything for a long time, just listened to the sound of my own footsteps on the polished marble floor.

"Logan," he sobbed. "Im begging you."

"Stop crying," I snapped, my patience finally hitting a wall. "They arent dead yet."

I hung up.

But the silence didn't last. Ten minutes later, the glass doors of the showroom swung open, and my mother, Martha, stormed in.

"Logan! You have to save your nephews! Theyre just babies!" She lunged for me, grabbing my arm with a grip that was surprisingly strong for a woman her age, her face already a mask of tears.

Just then, the salesman returned, beaming as he held out the folders. "Mr. Weaver, here are the contracts for both vehicles. The total comes to four million. If you could just look these over..."

"Four million?" Martha gasped. She snatched the papers out of his hand, her eyes darting across the numbers.

When she saw the total, she looked like she was about to scream, but she caught herself. She forced her voice into a trembling, maternal plea. "Logan, honey the boys have been kidnapped. Please, take this money and save them."

I gave her a long, chilly look. "Whats the rush? Let me finish buying the cars first."

She stared at me as if I were a stranger. "They are your nephews! Your brother's children! How can you be so heartless? Youre standing here picking out paint colors while theyre in some dark room terrified for their lives? They love you, Logan. How can you just watch them die?"

By now, a small crowd had gathered. In a high-end dealership like this, people usually minded their own business, but the drama was too juicy to ignore. Once they pieced together what was happening, the whispers started.

"He can afford four million for cars but won't pay two to save kids? Thats sick."

"Most people in this zip code are cold, but this is a new low. Its two lives."

"I know himthats Logan Weaver. Hes that tech guy from the news. Worth a fortune. I guess he traded his soul for his bank account."

I didn't blink. I didn't defend myself. I simply pulled out my black card and handed it to the salesman.

"Process it," I said.

A young woman in a white sundress stepped out from the crowd, her face flushed with indignation. "Ma'am," she said to Martha, "is there some kind of family feud? Why is he doing this to you?"

Martha played her part perfectly, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Theres no feud. Theyve always been close. Logan, have you forgotten? When you were a kid and fell into the river, Tyler was the one who screamed for help until his lungs gave out. He saved you."

She wiped her eyes, her voice cracking. "We were poor. When you got into that fancy university, Tyler gave up his own dreams. He went straight to work at the warehouse just to make sure you had tuition money. And now that youre rich, you won't even help him save his sons?"

I stayed silent. Because everything she said was technically true.

Tyler had been there when I fell. He had skipped college while I went.

Marthas voice rose to a crescendo. "Logan, look, just consider it a loan. The second the boys are back, Ill make Tyler and his wife move abroad. Theyll work two jobs, three jobstheyll pay you back every cent. Just give them the chance to save their children!"

"Enough!" I barked. The sound echoed like a gunshot. "Its a 'no.' Not a dime."

I turned my back on her to look at the cars again.

Martha flew at me. The slap was loud, stinging my cheek and turning my face to the side. "You ungrateful monster!" she shrieked. "I wish Id never given birth to you!"

The girl in the white dress joined in, her voice shaking with rage. "He saved your life! Those are his kids! Are you even human?"

"Mind your own business," I snapped at her.

Her face turned a deep, blotchy red.

"Logan, please," Martha sobbed, dropping to her knees on the cold floor. "Im begging you. Ill do anything."

I didnt move. I didn't reach out to help her up. I just signaled for the security guards.

"Get her out of here," I said coldly. "If theres a kidnapping, call the cops. Don't call me. Youre wasting my time; Im trying to buy a car."

The salesman looked nauseous. "Mr. Weaver maybe you should take the money and go to the police? We can put the sale on hold..."

"No," I said, my voice like iron. "Run the card."

The transaction went through. As the machine beeped, the crowds vitriol reached a fever pitch.

"His own mother is on her knees and he doesn't care. Absolute scum."

"All that money and hes still just a hollow shell of a man."

"I hope those cars crash the moment he drives them off the lot."

I turned to the room, a thin, polite smile on my face. "Anyone here is welcome to donate their own two million to the cause," I said. "But as for me? Im out."

02

"Fine! Well do it! Its just two millionif we all chip in, we can save those boys!" someone shouted from the back. A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd.

"Im in for twenty thousand!" a man in a tailored suit yelled.

"Ill give ten!" another added.

The room was suddenly alive with the spirit of a lynch-mob-turned-charity-auction.

I let out a short, dry laugh. "You people are as gullible as you are self-righteous. But let me make one thing clear: If anyone in this room gives a single cent to this woman today, I will make it my personal mission to ensure your business is bankrupt by tomorrow. Try me."

The room went deathly silent. In this city, my reputation preceded me. I had the capital and the connections to make that threat a reality.

"Right. Funs over," I said, checking my watch. "I have a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a school I funded. Id hate to be late."

I walked toward the exit, the crowd parting like the Red Sea, their eyes burning holes in my back. But before I could reach my car, Tyler and his wife, Tiffany, blocked my path.

They weren't alone. They had brought a swarm of reporters with them.

The moment they saw me, they threw themselves onto the pavement, sobbing hysterically.

"Logan! Please! Save our boys!"

Microphones were thrust into my face. Cameras flashed.

"Mr. Weaver, weve heard you're worth hundreds of millions. Why wont you pay a two-million-dollar ransom for your nephews?"

"Is it true your brother saved your life as a child? How can you turn your back on him now?"

"Is a luxury car really worth more to you than the lives of two innocent children?"

The questions pelted me like hail. I didn't even try to push through.

"Are you done?" I asked, looking directly into the nearest lens. "Its my money. I earned it. I spend it how I want. End of story."

"But Mr. Weaver, youre a known philanthropist," a reporter pressed, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Youve built schools in the Appalachian mountains. Are you really going to let your own family be killed?"

I leaned in closer to her mic. "Apparently so. I choose who gets my charity. And right now? I don't feel charitable toward them."

The reporters, sensing a viral moment, shifted gears. They started live-streaming, narrating my "villainy" to thousands of viewers in real-time.

Tyler and Tiffany continued their performance, their foreheads hitting the concrete as they bowed. "Logan, well do anything. Well be your servants for life. Just don't let them kill Toby and Ben!"

By now, Tylers forehead was actually bleeding. It was a hell of a show.

"If you have time to bleed on the sidewalk," I said, looking down at him, "you have time to go to the bank and take out a mortgage. Or sell your cars. Maybe if you look pathetic enough, someone will give you a high-interest loan."

Tyler froze for a second, his eyes flashing with something that wasn't grief. Then the mask slipped back into place.

"I would sell everything!" he wailed. "But I have nothing! Our parents spent every cent they had putting you through school! Even my wedding money went to your tuition! Mom had to go door-to-door begging neighbors for loans just so I could get married, and were still paying them back!"

He looked at the cameras, his voice trembling. "Logan, if Ive offended you, Im sorry. Ill change. Just please don't let them die."

The crowd around us sighed in sympathy.

"Hes a monster. His family sacrificed everything for him and he won't give back a penny."

"Look at the poor guy. He has nothing because he gave it all to his brother."

On the live-stream, the comments were a tidal wave of hate. Cancel him. Eat the rich. Hope he loses everything.

I didn't get angry. I actually laughed.

"Youre right," I said, grinning at the cameras. "I am exactly what you think I am. Im the ungrateful son. Im the cold-hearted brother. I haven't sent a dime home since the day I graduated. And guess what? Im still not paying the ransom."

03

The crowd turned feral. People started spitting toward me, throwing crumpled flyers and trash.

I calmly pulled out my phone and pointed it at them. "Keep it up. Id love to see how many of you can afford the legal fees for an assault charge against me."

"Who cares?" someone yelled. "People like you belong in jail anyway!"

A few people surged forward, fists clenched. Tyler and Tiffany jumped up, ostensibly to "protect" me, though they were really just positioning themselves for the cameras.

"Don't hurt him! Hes still my brother!" Tyler cried. Then, leaning into my ear, he whispered, "Logan, just give us the money and this all goes away."

"Not happening," I whispered back.

Martha appeared again, her face wet with "old mother" tears. "Logan, I raised you. I gave you life. Just consider this two million your 'repayment' for all those years. Please."

I looked at her, my smile fading. "Youre right. I do owe a debt for my upbringing. But I won't be paying it today."

"Then when?" she screamed. "When they're dead?"

My phone rang. It was my Chief of Staff.

"Logan, its a disaster. The video is everywhere. The board is panicking, our stock is dipping, and the PR team is losing control. What do we do?"

The people nearby heard the panic in her voice and cheered.

"Karma's a bitch, isn't it?"

"Lose it all! See how you like being broke like your brother!"

I paused, looked at the crowd, and then back at the camera. "Tell the team to schedule a press conference for tonight at eight. Ill address everything then."

I smiled. "The bigger the mess, the better the cleanup."