Is That Mom

Part 2 of Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

The Road to the City

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Part 2:

Arrival in the City

The city overwhelmed Ethan the moment he stepped off the bus. It wasn't just the towering skyscrapers or the bustling crowds that unnerved him; it was the energy, the frantic pace that made him feel like a single drop in a relentless downpour. People moved with purpose, brushing past him without a glance, their hurried steps echoing on the pavement. Cars honked in the distance, street vendors shouted over one another, and the smell of gasoline and exhaust filled the air. It was a far cry from the quiet rural town he had left behind.

Ethan stood on the sidewalk for a moment, frozen by the sheer scale of the place. The buildings around him stretched into the sky, casting long shadows over the streets below. They loomed like sentinels, watching over the masses who scurried beneath them. He shifted his backpack, feeling the weight of his mission pressing down on him. Somewhere in this city, tucked away in a cold, sterile vault, was the safety deposit box that held the secrets his mother had hidden from him. The thought of it both exhilarated and terrified him.

He glanced down at the small, crumpled piece of paper in his hand—the address of the bank where the box was kept. It wasn’t far, only a few blocks away, but the distance seemed greater now that he was here, standing among strangers in a place that felt utterly foreign. He took a deep breath, trying to shake the unease creeping up his spine. But it clung to him, as stubborn as the city’s noise, refusing to let go.

As he walked through the crowded streets, Ethan’s senses were on high alert. Every passerby seemed to brush too close, every sound felt too sharp. His paranoia began to creep in, tightening his chest. His eyes darted from one face to the next, searching for signs of danger, though he knew it was irrational. Still, the city’s pace, the anonymity of the people surrounding him, only deepened his sense of isolation. In a place so full of life, Ethan had never felt more alone.

He followed the map on his phone, navigating the winding streets and towering buildings. Every step felt heavier as he neared the bank. With each turn, a growing unease settled into his bones. The address led him to a towering building made of glass and steel, modern and sleek, standing out among the older, crumbling structures nearby. The bank itself looked pristine—too pristine. It was as though it was meant to blend in but at the same time remained untouched by the city’s grime and chaos.

Ethan hesitated before stepping inside. There was something off about the place, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The glass doors slid open silently as he approached, and a blast of cool, conditioned air greeted him as he entered. The interior was just as sterile as the outside: marble floors, white walls, everything gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. It was too clean, too perfect, and that only made Ethan’s skin crawl.

The bank was surprisingly quiet for the middle of the day. A few customers sat at the reception desk or spoke quietly to the tellers, but the atmosphere was subdued, almost clinical. There was no warmth here, only cold efficiency. The employees moved with practiced precision, their faces devoid of expression, their eyes occasionally flicking toward Ethan as he stood at the entrance.

He approached the reception desk, his heart pounding in his chest. The receptionist, a woman with sharp features and a tight, unreadable smile, greeted him with a robotic politeness. But her eyes lingered on him for a moment too long, as though she was sizing him up, trying to determine if he belonged here.

“I’m here to access a safety deposit box,” Ethan said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The woman’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. Do you have your key and identification?”

Ethan handed over the key, feeling the weight of it in his palm before he let it go. The woman took it, her fingers brushing against his in a way that made him want to pull back. She examined the key carefully, her eyes flicking up to meet his briefly before returning to her computer.

“Please wait here. Someone will assist you shortly.”

Ethan nodded, stepping back from the desk. His eyes roamed the bank’s interior, trying to shake the growing feeling that something was wrong. He couldn’t quite explain it, but there was an air of surveillance, as though every movement was being watched, every word recorded. The employees, with their vacant expressions, seemed too attentive in their detachment, and every glance that passed over him felt calculated.

He moved toward the waiting area, sitting down in one of the stiff, uncomfortable chairs. From here, he could see the security cameras mounted high in the corners of the room. They were discreet, almost invisible, but Ethan noticed them immediately. The feeling of being observed grew stronger, and with it, his paranoia. He began to wonder if Sarah’s betrayal was only the beginning. Was it possible that others knew about the box? Had someone followed him here?

Ethan’s thoughts spiraled, and his heart raced faster as he waited. The receptionist hadn’t asked any unusual questions, but her demeanor had unsettled him. Was she suspicious of him? Or was this just his paranoia taking root, fed by the stress of the last few days?

His mind flicked back to his mother. She had hidden so much from him—her past, her involvement in something that, even now, he couldn’t fully grasp. He wondered if she had felt this same paranoia, if she had lived the last years of her life constantly looking over her shoulder. The thought made him shiver. And now, whatever secrets she had been protecting, they were about to become his burden.

A man in a dark suit emerged from a hallway to the side, walking with purpose toward Ethan. He was tall, with short-cropped hair and a stony expression. His eyes were cold, and there was something about his demeanor that made Ethan tense.

“Mr. Shaw?” the man asked, his voice low and professional.

Ethan stood, nodding. “Yes.”

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the vault.”

The man turned without another word, expecting Ethan to follow. He led him through a set of heavy doors and down a long, narrow hallway. The walls here were darker, the lighting dimmer, and the quiet that settled around them felt oppressive. Ethan’s unease grew with each step, the sterile coldness of the place seeping into his skin.

They reached the vault, a thick, steel door that looked more like something out of a maximum-security facility than a bank. The man punched in a code on the keypad beside the door, and with a loud hiss, it swung open.

“Your safety deposit box is inside,” the man said, stepping aside to let Ethan enter. “Take your time.”

Ethan nodded, stepping into the cold, sterile room. As the door closed behind him with a soft thud, he was left alone in the silence. The room was small, lined with rows of steel boxes, each one identical to the next. His box sat on the middle shelf, marked with a number he recognized immediately. He approached it slowly, the anticipation and dread building in his chest.

His hands shook slightly as he inserted the key into the lock, twisting it until he heard a soft click. He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with the possibilities of what he might find inside. Was this the key to understanding his mother’s secrets? Or would it only lead to more unanswered questions?

With a deep breath, he pulled the drawer open. Inside, nestled among old papers and documents, was a small stack of envelopes, yellowed with age, and something else—a small, brass key.

Ethan stared at the key, a chill running down his spine. Another key? But to what? And why had his mother left it here, hidden among the letters she had never meant for him to find?

As the weight of the discovery settled over him, Ethan’s mind buzzed with questions. But one thing was certain—the answers he had been searching for were within his grasp. Yet, the deeper he dug, the more dangerous this path seemed to become.