The alley went dead silent. The only sound was the heavy rain hitting the pavement.
Charles stopped breathing. His mother had sworn she paid in cash. She had sworn it was untraceable.
"We never stopped looking into the crash, Charles," Arthur said, his eyes filled with a cold, righteous fury. "We simply waited until we had enough leverage. The police are waiting at your mother’s estate in the Hamptons right now. You’ll find them waiting at your penthouse when you return."
Charles slumped forward, his hands landing in the cold, dirty water of the alley. The fight vanished from him entirely. The empire was gone. His freedom was gone. Twenty years of lies, luxury, and arrogance had been dismantled in less than five minutes.
Arthur ignored him, stepping around the broken man.
He walked up to the chain-link fence, holding the umbrella over the shivering, filthy homeless man. Arthur slowly crouched down, unbothered that the wet ground was soaking his own expensive trousers.
"William," Arthur said gently.
William looked at him, his blue eyes tired and confused. "I really don't remember you, mister. I'm sorry. I don't remember anything."
"I know," Arthur said softly. "You've been alone for a very long time. But you don't have to remember right now. You are safe. Nobody will ever hurt you again."
Arthur extended his bare hand.
William hesitated. He looked past Arthur, at his brother kneeling in the mud, crying silently into the rain. Then, slowly, William reached out his scarred, trembling hand and placed it in Arthur’s grip.
Arthur helped the old man to his feet. He took off his own expensive charcoal suit jacket and wrapped it around William’s shivering shoulders, covering the ragged, soaked clothes.
"Let's get you home," Arthur said.
As they walked past Charles, Arthur stopped for a brief moment. He reached down and effortlessly pulled the two gold watches from Charles’s pocket. Charles didn't resist; he just stared blankly at the brick wall, a hollow shell of the tyrant he had been ten minutes ago.
Arthur handed the battered, mud-caked watch to William.
William clutched it to his chest, a small, genuine smile breaking through the grime on his face as he felt the familiar weight of the gold.
The security men opened the door of the Maybach. Arthur gently guided William into the warm, leather-lined interior of the luxury car, away from the biting wind and the rain. The doors closed with a solid, expensive thud.
The SUVs fell into line behind the Maybach. The convoy rolled smoothly out of the alley, their red taillights disappearing into the Chicago night.
Charles was left entirely alone in the dark, kneeling in the freezing mud, with nothing but the storm and the sound of police sirens beginning to wail in the distance.