Chapter 6: The Greed of Rivals

Others gradually surrounded the truck.

Their footsteps crunched on gravel, voices low and tight. Outside, voices murmured.

Every word was tense, every phrase edged with greed. "There’s five of us—how do we split it? First come, first served?"

The youngest one’s voice wavered, bravado just a mask. "Heh," someone snorted, "First come, first served? I’m a pro boxer. If you want to fight, come on, I’ll take you all."

He squared his jaw, already bouncing on his toes. "You… Even if you’re tough, you can’t beat all four of us."

Another voice, higher-pitched, full of doubt. "Let’s not argue. Let’s talk it out."

Someone tried for diplomacy, but nobody listened. "Tch, shut up." The last young man cut in impatiently. "Listen to me—I have a plan."

He held up a finger, his watch glinting. "What plan?"

The boxer crossed his arms. He looked at the others and sneered.

The sneer of someone born rich, used to getting his way. "You know who I am? If not, let me introduce myself—Ryan Carter, son of the Carter Group CEO."

He puffed his chest, waiting for the others to be impressed. "You want the coin, but can you keep it? Aren’t you afraid you’ll end up like this guy?"

He gestured at the wreck, the implication clear. "Here’s the plan: the coin goes to me, I’ll give each of you a ten-million check, then we all go home and pretend we never met. How’s that?"

He flashed a checkbook like a badge of honor. The others looked at each other. After a long pause, someone said, voice trembling,

He bit his lip, glancing at the others. "I agree."

The boxer shrugged, weighing his options. "Me too."

Their hunger for cash was stronger than their pride. As the checks were signed, the deal was sealed.

Pens scratched, hands shook, and greed won over caution. The five men, satisfied, walked to the back of the truck and opened the cargo hold together.

They lined up, shoulders tense, ready for the big reveal. The next moment, they were completely dumbfounded.

Silence. Because the truck was empty—there was no one inside.

All that effort, all that violence—and nothing but crates of wilted lettuce.