All the color drained from Forrest's face, and he dropped to his knees. "Please, I'm begging you, get my money back! I swear I'll never touch this stuff again."
The police sighed, exasperated. "Mr. Vane, we will do our best to track it. Please try to remain calm."
But the sheer shock was too much, and Forrest fainted dead away, eventually waking up in a hospital bed.
Staring up at the stark white ceiling, he prayed the events of the day were just a horrific nightmare.
He grabbed his phone. The balance was still ticking upward, now nearing seventy million dollars. He jammed his thumb against the withdrawal button over and over until he nearly cracked the screen, but it was useless. The money was trapped. In sheer agony, he beat his fists against the mattress repeatedly.
The other patients in the ward watched his psychotic meltdown and kept their distance.
Forrest's eyes were bloodshot. He wished he could turn back time; he would never have touched the damn app!
His breath came in ragged, trembling gasps, but it was too late for regrets.
He had borrowed heavily from the loan sharks. He had to pay back nearly four million dollars within a month, or they were going to chop off his limbs.
His legs shook violently under the hospital sheets. Should he make a run for it?
Should he try to sell his apartment and car within the month and flee the city?
He scrambled out of the hospital and immediately listed his property for sale. He couldn't shake the paranoid feeling that he was being followed the moment he left the building.
He licked his chapped lips, cold sweat drenching his forehead.
Later that evening, while eating at a noodle stand, his fears were confirmed. The men trailing him belonged to the loan sharks.
Loan sharking was highly illegal, yet these men operated openly, proving they weren't remotely afraid of the police.
Terrified, Forrest sped up his pace, but one of the men kicked him hard in the back, sending him crashing into the pavement.


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