Chapter 17 – Weekend Reset
Friday afternoon. The moment the market closed, Jake leaned back in his chair at his mom's house in Sherman Oaks, watching the final price tick across the screen.
He was up more than 60% in just a few days. His portfolio had grown to over $16,000, and the account dashboard reflected it in crisp, green numbers.
He didn't celebrate. He calculated.
But before he could dive into another round of research, Judith's voice cut through the moment.
"Alright, shut it down. You've got the weekend off."
Jake blinked. "From what?"
"From being a ten-year-old stockbroker," she said, grabbing her car keys. "Your dad's already at Charlie's. You're spending the weekend there, remember?"
Right. Weekend at the beach house.
Not just a visit—this was part of the routine now. Even though he'd be staying with Judith full-time for school, the weekends were his to decompress. Or, in his case, refocus.
Jake logged out, shut down the PC, and grabbed his backpack.
---
Later That Evening – Charlie's Beach House, Malibu
The salty breeze hit him the second he stepped out of Judith's car. The sound of waves crashing, the subtle scent of Charlie's cologne, and the familiar creak of the beach house door—this place already felt like a second base of operations.
Charlie was on the deck, drink in hand, sunglasses on even though the sun was halfway gone.
"There he is," he said. "The future CEO of… whatever the hell you're building."
Alan appeared behind him, sipping a soda. "He's up more than six grand since Monday."
Jake shrugged. "Nothing crazy. Just watching trends."
Charlie chuckled. "When I was ten, 'watching trends' meant trying to guess if my teacher wore a wig."
Jake stepped inside and dropped his backpack in his bedroom. It wasn't fancy, but it was his. Bed made. Drawers filled. A simple desk by the window. Broadband was up and running—Judith had insisted he stay connected wherever he went.
He came back out to find Alan and Charlie mid-discussion over a takeout menu.
"So," Alan said, turning to Jake, "we've got plans tomorrow."
Jake raised an eyebrow. "Involving?"
"Mickey ears and roller coasters."
Jake blinked. "Disneyland?"
"Yep. Just you and me," Alan said. "No stocks, no tech, no stress. You've been working nonstop. It's time to be a kid. Just for one day."
Jake hesitated. For a moment, his mind ran through his watchlist, weekend research plans, and unfinished notes.
But then… churros.
"Okay," he said. "But no teacups."
Charlie smirked.
Dinner at Charlie's beach house was surprisingly calm—for once.
Charlie had ordered Thai food ("because it pairs well with bourbon"), Alan was halfway through a plate of pad see ew, and Jake sat across from them eating chicken satay, his eyes flicking occasionally to the news playing on the muted TV in the background.
It was almost… normal.
Until Jake noticed something.
A shadow outside the living room window.
Then two eyes.
A pale face.
Staring.
He froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.
It was her.
Even through the glass, even in the low light of the beach house, he knew who she was instantly. The wide-eyed stare. The fixed grin. That subtle but unhinged presence.
Rose.
Jake swallowed hard. "Uh… Uncle Charlie?"
Charlie looked up from his drunken defense of why pad Thai was underrated. "Yeah?"
Jake nodded toward the window. "There's someone staring at us."
Charlie followed his gaze, then groaned. "Oh, come on."
Alan turned next, eyes widening. "Is that… is that Rose?"
Jake raised an eyebrow. "Your stalker?"
Charlie pushed himself up from the table. "Ex. Sort of. Long story. Ugh."
He headed toward the door with the energy of someone about to chase a raccoon off the porch.
Rose didn't flinch. She just smiled sweetly, hands behind her back like she was hiding a bouquet or a shovel.
"Hi, Charlie," she called as the door opened. "I saw you had guests."
"Go home, Rose."
"I was just walking past…"
"You live two miles away."
Jake watched from the table, narrowing his eyes. That's how it always starts, he thought. She shows up. Smiles. Plays sweet. Then burns your clothes, stalks your dates, poisons your relationships. And eventually…
His stomach turned slightly.
She killed you. In the end, she's the one who killed you.
Back when he was just watching the show, Jake always wondered why no one ever just called the police on Rose. How many times did she break in? How many times did she sabotage Charlie's life?
She ruined everything.
Charlie eventually closed the door, muttering under his breath and locking the deadbolt. "She'll be gone in ten minutes. She always is."
Jake kept his expression neutral but his mind was racing. This wasn't just a sitcom anymore. This was his life now. And Rose? She wasn't funny.
She was dangerous.
He made a mental note then and there: He wasn't going to let history repeat itself.
Next time Rose came around, he'd be ready.