Page 139 of Under Construction

A gas line explodes. The blast throws everyone back, a wave of scorching air and burning debris. The east wall groans, then collapses in a shower of sparks, twisted metal, and flaming bamboo.

Tears blur Dennis's vision. Not just his dream burning, but investor confidence, company reputation, his father's faith in him—all going up in smoke.

His eyes meet Chris's across the chaos.

Chris's muscles tense for movement. His face is a battle of warring impulses, expression tight. Then he takes half a step toward Dennis, hand just about to reach out...

But he sets his jaw, lets his arm drop to his side, and turns back to the crew.

Even now, he's here, helping, playing the hero—or maybe just covering his tracks.

Dennis watches Chris direct another piece of equipment to safety and doesn't know what to believe anymore. The evidence points to sabotage, but Chris's actions scream otherwise.

The smoke stings his eyes, or maybe those are fresh tears.

Nothing makes sense—not the fire, not Chris, not the ruins of everything they've built together.

42Shaky Foundation

Dennis sits on the floor long after the fire dies, staring at blackened bamboo beams. The workers have gone home. Police have cleared out, sealing the site for investigation. His clothes reek of smoke, throat raw from breathing it for hours.

His phone hasn't stopped ringing. His father. Mother. Investors. Jason. Unknown numbers.

Everyone but Chris.

Dennis can't answer any of them. Can't process anything beyond the weight in his chest, the acid in his stomach, the crushing anxiety.

The explosion replays in his mind—what if someone had been under there? What if they shut down the project permanently? What if this proves his father right—that Dennis isn’t cut for this, too careless, too naive, too inexperienced.

Too ready to fall into bed with the enemy, a voice whispers in his mind.

Maybe this is his punishment. Maybe he deserves to sit here and let it swallow him whole.

The sun is setting when a pair of shiny leather shoes appear in his peripheral vision.

"My goodness..."

He looks up to find Mr. Lancaster’s striking profile against the dying light, horror etched across his features as he surveys the destruction.

"Mr. Lancaster? What are you doing here?"

Mr. Lancaster turns, genuine concern softening his face. "I rushed here as soon as I heard."

He's the first person who's actually come to find Dennis.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You didn't have to. Besides, they've shut the site down."

They fall silent. Mr. Lancaster studies the wreckage while Dennis watches ash stamp patterns on concrete.

"I never thought he would go this far..." Mr. Lancaster murmurs, almost to himself. "I thought he was past this… kind of thing."

Something in his tone makes Dennis look up. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, forgive me." Mr. Lancaster runs a hand through his silver hair, his tailored suit crumpling as he paces. "I just... I've seen this before."

Dennis pushes to his feet, brushing dust from his track pants. "Mr. Lancaster?" His throat tightens. "What do you mean?"

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