The Chauffeur Who Could Hear Thoughts

I was born with the ability to hear what people are thinking. That gift turned me into a top-rated chauffeur just two years out of school. Cabin temperature, driving speed, seat angle… Whatever a boss needed, I had it handled. Not a single passenger ever had a bad word to say about me. My motto was simple: eyes on the road, mouth shut. Then I switched jobs, and on my very first day driving for the Schur family, I nearly wrecked my reputation. In the car, Mr. Trent Schur jabbed a finger at his younger son, Luke Schur, and laid into him. "Keep blowing money like this and I'll cut off your card and ship you off to a lockdown boarding school!" 'He burned through another five hundred thousand dollars this month. What's going to become of this kid?' Luke kept his head down and said nothing, his eyes full of stubborn defiance. 'All I paid this month was five hundred dollars in school fees, and he still thinks I spend too much. If I'd known a rich family's allowance was this pathetic, I never would've let them bring me back.' My hands nearly slipped off the wheel. Wow. Five hundred thousand on paper, five hundred in his pocket. That kind of tax rate was more outrageous than my ex-girlfriend's conscience. The more Mr. Schur ranted, the angrier he got, and Luke's temper finally flared too. "Stop the car! If you don't want me as your son, then I'll leave!" He reached for the door handle, and I couldn't hold back any longer. "Mr. Schur, how about... you double-check the accounts first?" Chapter 1 The car fell silent. My name is Fred O'Donnell, and I was born with the ability to hear what other people are thinking. After graduation, that knack turned me into a top-rated chauffeur in just two years. My previous boss once claimed he didn't want a late-night snack, but in his head he was craving the clam chowder bread bowls from that little place on the south side of town. I blamed traffic, took a detour past the shop, and he got the very last bread bowl of the night. The next day, my pay doubled. When my boss had a client he didn't want to make small talk with, I drove as fast as I could and took the back streets. When it was the other way around, I made sure they had plenty of time to talk. My motto had always been: eyes on the road, mouth shut. This time, I'd jumped ship to the Schur family for three times the market rate. Trent Schur, the head of the family, was notorious as the devil incarnate. He was brilliant but ruthless, and so finicky that he was nearly impossible to please. He went through drivers like he bought them wholesale every quarter. I'd planned to make him feel right at home. Instead, on my very first day, I was already pushing my luck. Five hundred thousand dollars versus five hundred bucks. The gap was just too ridiculous. "Who are you?" Trent looked up at me. "Since when does a driver get a say in my family's business?" "Please don't be angry, Mr. Schur," the assistant in the passenger seat hurried to say. "Mr. O'Donnell was only worried about your son..." Victor Schur, the eldest son, let out a soft laugh. "Dad, don't get worked up. The new driver doesn't know the rules yet. He means well." 'A mere driver sticking his nose in the Schur family's business. What a pain. I'll have him replaced the second we get back.' 'Why hasn't Luke Schur gotten out of the car yet? Having him around the house is an eyesore anyway.' I glanced at Victor in the rearview mirror. Everyone said the eldest Schur son was refined, gentle, and accomplished. I never expected his mind to be meaner than the broken glass on the side of the road. 'Why does this new driver have to run his mouth? He deserves to get fired.' 'Here we go again. Every time Victor opens his mouth, I'm the one who gets yelled at.' The young son the Schurs had finally found and brought home, on the other hand, might have grumbled that I was a busybody, but there was a hint of concern underneath it. I hit the brakes, and the car came to a smooth stop in front of the Schur family's old estate. Luke immediately threw the door open and walked off in the opposite direction. Bracing myself, I got out and called after him. "Mr. Luke, please don't go yet." He turned back, his expression cold. "What?" "Today's Thanksgiving. It's a day for the whole family to be together. Storming off in a huff seems like bad luck." Then I turned to Trent, who had just stepped out of the car, and explained, "I just think there might be some kind of misunderstanding here. Looking at what he's wearing, Mr. Luke doesn't seem like someone who spends five hundred thousand a month." I pointed at his shirt. "This is the same one I bought at a discount store last week. Fifty bucks. And his shoes are splitting along the edges. Maybe there's been a mistake somewhere. You could go over the accounts together!" Trent's gaze dropped to Luke. He froze for a few seconds, and his expression slowly changed. "Where has all your money gone?" "Here we go again," Victor cut in, sounding helpless. "We buy him new clothes, and he refuses to wear them. He insists the old ones are more comfortable. We can't do anything with him, and now even outsiders have the wrong idea about us. "As for the money, there are plenty of ways to blow it online." Trent's face darkened. "I give you money so you can focus on your studies, not so you can throw your life away on games." Luke's head snapped up. "I didn't!" Victor sighed softly. "Luke, is that any way to talk to Dad?" "I don't need your fake concern." Trent's expression turned stormy. "What kind of attitude is that toward your brother? "Losing you was my fault. But ever since we found you, I've given you everything I owed you, and you still walk around acting like you've been terribly wronged. What are you trying to do, make everyone think we mistreat you?" Luke didn't respond. 'Their idea of taking care of me is a few hundred bucks a month, and they still expect me to keep up a rich family's image. 'I've told them so many times. Nobody believes me. 'If they didn't want to raise me, why bother bringing me back? Victor alone was enough for them.' He looked at me, his eyes cold and guarded. 'He's no different. He just wants to watch me make a fool of myself.' As the tension thickened, I quickly jumped in. "You only need to say one thing. How much did you actually spend this month?" "What's it to you?" "You're right, it's none of my business." My palms were drenched in sweat. "But if you tell us, at least one person will believe you." Trent's head whipped toward me. "What's that supposed to mean? A driver has no say here." I squeezed my eyes shut. "Mr. Schur, I know saying this might get me fired tomorrow. But Mr. Luke is wearing a fifty-dollar shirt. His jacket is pilled from washing, and his shoes are splitting along the edges. Don't you think something's wrong here?" Victor's expression shifted slightly. 'This driver is way too nosy!' His thoughts were full of malice. "Fred, you're fired." The assistant grabbed my arm, ready to throw me out. Luke's mouth twisted. "All I spent this month was five hundred dollars on school fees." He looked at Trent, his eyes red. "I honestly don't know how much more I'd have to save before you'd stop thinking I'm wasting money." Trent stood frozen. He pulled out his phone and quickly scrolled through the statement. "But according to this... you spent five hundred thousand dollars this month." Chapter 2 Once everyone was inside, Trent pulled up the records and held them out in front of Luke. "September 12th, three hundred twenty thousand dollars in game top-ups. September 16th, a hundred and ten thousand on limited-edition sneakers. September 20th, seventy thousand on private image consulting classes." Every charge was itemized in detail, adding up to exactly five hundred thousand. "It wasn't me." "This card has been in your hands the whole time, and the PIN is your birthday. You're telling me you didn't spend this money?" Victor chimed in right on cue, sounding a little helpless. "Dad, don't be angry. Luke's probably just too embarrassed to admit it." He turned to Luke and sighed softly. "The game top-ups and the sneakers are the kind of things guys like. If you really wanted them, you could've just told us. There's no need to sneak around." Trent knitted his brows, feeling a flicker of exhaustion for the first time. "Where on earth has all your money gone?" 'How am I supposed to raise this kid? If she were still here, at least she'd know how to talk to him. Her dying wish was to bring our younger son home. I found him and brought him back, and he turned out this rebellious.' Luke pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling. He unlocked it and handed it straight to Trent. "See for yourself." Trent took the phone. In early September, a deposit of six hundred dollars had come in. Right after that, five hundred went to the school's payment portal. Balance: one hundred dollars. He stared at the screen, baffled. "Where's the money?" Victor sighed beside him. "Dad, Luke's been using the supplementary card he had me set up for him." Luke's head snapped up. "I never got any supplementary card." Victor pulled a stack of printouts from his bag and spread them across the coffee table. "These are the full statements. And there are photos." He laid the photos out. The first showed a young man picking out sneakers at a mall. The second showed someone in a custom suit walking into a private club. In the third, someone stood outside a bar, talking to another person. None of them showed a face, but the figure in each looked a lot like Luke. "I don't know why Luke keeps denying it," Victor said earnestly. "If he wants something, he can just ask. There's no need to spend the money and then turn around and blame the family." 'Let's see you talk your way out of this one.' Trent's face grew darker and darker. "Luke, do you have anything else to say? Victor is your brother. You can't spend his money and then turn around and accuse him." 'Ever since this kid came back, he's been fighting the family at every turn. How do I straighten him out?' It wasn't that Mr. Schur didn't love his kids. But he only knew Luke through bank statements and whatever his eldest son told him. Luke lowered his eyes, his fingers slowly curling into fists. 'Here we go again. He doesn't care about the truth at all. He only believes whatever Victor says. I've explained myself so many times. What's the point?' He let out a cold snort, turned, and walked away. Watching the conversation fall apart again, I heaved a long sigh. Looked like I had to step in myself. "Mr. Luke, wait a second. This is actually easy to verify." I turned to Victor. "Mr. Victor, you're saying Mr. Luke spent all this money?" "Of course. I have the records." "Mr. Schur, I'm afraid you need to look into this card being used for fraudulent charges." I pulled up the game's official page. "The minimum requirement for this game is a flagship phone from three years ago." "Mr. Luke, your phone is an old model from five years back. It can't even run the game, let alone rack up three hundred twenty thousand in top-ups." Then I picked up the sneaker order. "These shoes are a men's size 9. Mr. Luke, what size do you wear?" "Seven." "I doubt anyone would order custom sneakers in a size that doesn't fit." Seeing Trent lapse into thought, I pressed on. "The suit's the same story. The order is for a six-foot-one frame with a forty-one-inch chest. Mr. Luke looks to be about five-nine. The size is obviously wrong. "The photos are even simpler. The faces are hidden, the profiles are too blurry to make out, and there's nothing distinctive about the figure from behind." I flipped the photos over. "There isn't even a date on them. How does any of this prove the person in them is Mr. Luke?" Luke stared at me blankly, as if stunned that anyone would actually believe him. Trent fixed his eyes on Victor. "Explain this. Where did all your evidence come from?" "Dad, you'd take a driver's word and suspect me? A driver shows up on his first day and starts driving a wedge between us. Who knows what he's really after?" Victor clutched the papers in his hand and glared at me viciously. "Luke hasn't even said the person in those photos isn't him. Who are you, a driver, to start bossing people around in the Schur household?" Luke still didn't say a word. Looking at his pale face, I felt an odd tightness in my chest. I thought all my effort had gone to waste. Then he suddenly spoke up. "On September 16th, I was at school." His voice was quiet. "I passed out from low blood sugar during my last class that morning. After that, I stayed in the campus health center. The school nurse can vouch for me. So can my academic advisor." Trent studied him for a few seconds, then abruptly pulled out his phone. When the call connected, he asked in a low voice, "I'd like to confirm something. On September 16th, was Luke in the campus health center the entire time?" The other end of the line went silent for a moment. Trent's expression changed instantly. Chapter 3 "The health center only has a record of him checking in a little after four in the afternoon. Nobody remembers whether he was still there after seven." Trent glanced at the statement. The charge had gone through at 7:32 p.m. The light that had just returned to Luke's eyes dimmed again. "I passed out that afternoon. Does it make sense that I'd leave the health center and go shopping?" "You could have paid online," Victor said, as gentle as ever. "Luke, if you don't want to admit it, there's no need to shift the blame onto me." 'The supplementary card is in his name. If I make the evidence look a little more real, Dad won't dig any further.' My fingertips went cold. No wonder Victor was so sure of himself. These records really couldn't fully clear Luke's name. Trent spoke in a low voice. "Take out your phone. Your shopping history, your messages, your payment apps. Open all of them." The last bit of color drained from Luke's face. "Whatever. Check all you want." He slammed the phone down on the table and unlocked it. Trent scrolled through it page by page. There was nothing. Victor sighed. "Deleting the records is perfectly normal. Luke, if you're really short on money, you don't have to play these games. I'll take care of you." "Why would I delete anything?" Luke's head jerked up, his eyes blazing with a fire he couldn't hold back. "Why would I delete something I never did?" "Because you don't want Dad to find out." "Shut up!" Luke slammed his fist on the table. "Victor, stop pretending to be the good guy!" "Enough!" Trent cut in, his face cold. "Is that how you talk to your brother?" Luke suddenly laughed, though his eyes were red. "See? It's always like this. Everything I say is wrong, and you believe everything he says." 'He only brought me back to fulfill Mom's dying wish. Nobody actually cares whether I'm doing okay.' Trent's expression stiffened for an instant. 'I gave him the best school, the best place to live, and more money than anyone, and he still blames me for losing him.' In the middle of the standoff, I noticed a slip of paper tucked inside Luke's phone case and pulled it out. "What's this?" Luke's face changed. "Give that back." It was a pay stub from a part-time job. Last month, he'd washed cars and done odd jobs at an auto repair shop, earning one thousand three hundred twenty dollars in total. The back was crammed with handwritten expenses: cafeteria card, bus fare, course materials, medicine. The last line read: Remaining: 102 dollars. Trent stared at the paper, his voice hoarse. "You've been working a part-time job? Does this family need that little bit of money?" Luke snatched the paper back. "The family doesn't. I do. "When I was down to my last hundred dollars, do you know how I got by?" Trent frowned. "If you were short on money, why didn't you say something?" "I did." Luke looked at Victor. "You told me to go to him. He said he'd set up a card for me and manage my account." The smile on Victor's face finally faded. 'How does he still remember that? He never even touched that supplementary card. How could he know I've been using it this whole time?' I heard every word. But I could only look at Victor as if nothing had happened. "Mr. Victor, you said the supplementary card was for Mr. Luke's convenience. So where was Mr. Luke when the last in-person purchase was made?" "How would I remember that?" "There's a timestamp on the statement." I pointed to the order on Trent's phone. "September 16th, 7:32 p.m. The shipping address isn't the Schur house, and it isn't the school either." The assistant checked, and his face changed right away. "Mr. Schur, the address is... an apartment registered under Mr. Victor's name." Trent slowly raised his eyes. Victor was quick to explain. "Luke used to refuse to come home. It's normal for his things to be shipped to my place." "Is that so?" I pressed on. "Then what about the contact number on the order?" The assistant's voice dropped even lower. "That's also Mr. Victor's number." Victor finally couldn't keep his composure. "Fred." He glared at me, his voice icy. "Aren't you talking a little too much today for a driver?" "I just want to get the accounts straight." "Are you interrogating me?" "No." I met his gaze. "But if Mr. Luke really spent this money, why is every detail for the delivery, the contact, and the confirmation yours?" Luke let out a soft laugh. "Now you know what it feels like to be suspected." Victor lunged at him. "Don't push your luck!" I immediately stepped in front of Luke. "Mr. Victor, keep your hands to yourself." Victor shoved me aside. My knee slammed into the table, and I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain. Luke froze for a moment, then stepped in front of me. "Why are you laying a hand on him?" In the scuffle, Victor's phone fell to the floor. The screen lit up, and a message popped up. [Mr. Victor Schur, please confirm the final payment you made using Luke Schur's account as soon as possible.] Trent snorted coldly and called the finance department. "Pull a full year of transaction records for every account in Luke's name. "For every transaction, I want the person who actually made it, the receiving account, and the merchant address. Send it all to me within half an hour. "Do it now."