Date: June 8, 2021

Location: Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Event: Day before Eastern Conference Finals – Game 4

Boston Leads Series 2–1

6:14 AM – Hotel Room WindowKyle Wilson hadn't slept.

He sat at the edge of his hotel bed, leg elevated, headphones unplugged, voice recorder playing back the phone call from the night before.

"Your old man didn't just play street ball. He made bets. Big ones. On people. On games. On outcomes."

"Someone's looking for you now. Just like they looked for him."

He replayed that last line.

"Someone's looking for you now."

Outside, the Milwaukee skyline was waking up under a pale blue hue. Ari was still asleep in the room's other bed, curled under a hotel comforter. Her breathing was steady.

Kyle's wasn't.

He pulled open the drawer by the nightstand. Inside, beneath the Bible and a laminated room service menu, was the letter from Montego Bay. He read it again, tracing the looping script.

His fingers stopped on the address.

This wasn't paranoia. It was a breadcrumb trail.

And he couldn't ignore it anymore.

9:42 AM – Celtics ShootaroundThe gym echoed with squeaking sneakers and rim rattles. Jaylen threw down a windmill dunk that got the rookies hyped. Tatum went through post moves in silence.

Kyle arrived late.

Crutch under one arm, clipboard in the other.

Udoka nodded when he saw him. "You good?"

Kyle didn't answer right away. Then: "Yeah."

He wasn't.

His mind was split between the Bucks' pick-and-roll coverages and the mysterious voice on the phone.

"Lopez is slow to recover," he said finally. "Pop out Brogdon early. Use White as the swing."

"Already noted," Udoka said.

Kyle glanced across the gym.

Jaylen jogged over.

"You look like hell."

Kyle half-smiled. "Feels about right."

Jaylen leaned in. "When this series is over—whatever's eating you, deal with it. But right now? Lock in."

Kyle nodded.

Jaylen slapped his back and jogged off.

11:50 AM – Hotel LobbyAri stirred her coffee slowly.

"You're scaring me," she said quietly. "You keep asking about your dad like he left a murder weapon."

Kyle sipped water. "A man I've never met calls me out of the blue, tells me my father was into things that could get him killed, and warns me that someone's looking for me. That's not just curiosity."

"But what if digging opens doors that can't be shut?"

"I've already opened them."

A pause.

Then she leaned closer. "Then whatever's on the other side? You don't go through alone."

7:03 PM – Game 4: Fiserv ForumThe crowd buzzed like an electric current. Game 4 energy was different. Desperate. Loud. Milwaukee's backs were against the wall, and they played like it.

First Quarter: Controlled Chaos

Giannis started hot—three quick buckets through contact. Holiday found angles like he had a cheat code. The Celtics fought to match pace, but turnovers piled up early.

Kyle sat at the end of the bench, eyes flicking between the court and the stat sheet on his lap.

His notes were tight:

"Holiday attacking left 67% of time. Cheat screen high."

"Bam—no, Lopez—drop coverage soft. Exploit w/ stepbacks."

"Giannis gathering quicker off right foot."

By the end of Q1:

Milwaukee 27 – Boston 23

Second Quarter – SwingTatum found rhythm. Pull-up jumpers. Euro steps. He started gliding. Jaylen followed with two big corner threes.

Derrick White drew a huge charge on Holiday.

But Giannis? Unstoppable.

Spins. Transition dunks. Drawing fouls like magnets.

By halftime:

Milwaukee 54 – Boston 51

In the locker room, Udoka kept it tight.

"They're bleeding us slow. Push the tempo. Make them work."

Kyle hovered near the trainers' table, silent.

His knee was swelling again. He could feel it—like something trying to burst.

And still, part of him burned to jump in. But he knew what happened last time.

He didn't want to collapse again. Not like Game 6. Not like that night.

Third Quarter – BrawlBoston responded.

Marcus Smart turned into a madman—steals, assists, a deep three that silenced the Milwaukee crowd. Rob Williams blocked a Lopez hook, then ran the floor for a dunk.

And Jaylen?

He was surgical again.

Crossover. Pull-up. Slam.

But Milwaukee kept answering. Khris Middleton finally came alive with back-to-back triples.

Score at end of 3:

Boston 82 – Milwaukee 80

Kyle's fist was tight on the clipboard. Sweat beaded at his hairline.

This was the kind of war he lived for—and the kind he could no longer physically fight.

Fourth Quarter – 1:01 to GoScore: Boston 103 – Milwaukee 102

Giannis at the line.

Crowd standing.

He misses the first.

Swish on the second.

Tied.

Boston's possession. Tatum brings it up. Dribble move. Kicks to Jaylen.

Wide open corner three—

Misses.

Lopez rebounds.

Giannis takes it coast-to-coast. Spins on White. Eurostep. Foul.

Makes both.

Bucks 105 – Celtics 103

Timeout Boston.

The camera cuts to Kyle on the bench. Face calm. Jaw tight.

Udoka draws up the play.

12 seconds left.

Inbound to Tatum. Drives baseline. Doubled. Flips it to White.

White to Brogdon.

3 seconds.

Brogdon steps into a three—

GOOD.

Silence in Milwaukee.

Boston 106 – Milwaukee 105

Giannis heaves one at the buzzer.

Brick.

Boston players rush the floor.

Kyle doesn't jump. He just exhales, slow and deep.

Celtics lead series 3–1.

Postgame – Tunnel ShadowsAs reporters flooded the hallway, Kyle stepped into a corner, pulling out his phone.

One missed call.

Unknown number.

A voicemail.

"You keep poking around, Wilson. You'll end up just like him."

His hand tightened around the phone.

Jaylen walked by, sweat dripping, jersey untucked.

"You good?"

Kyle pocketed the phone.

"Yeah," he lied.

But he knew this wasn't just a family mystery anymore.

Something was coming.

And for the first time—it felt personal.

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