The Payment

"You have one hour to pack."

My father couldn't look at me. That's how I knew it was bad.

"Pack for what?"

He stood in the doorway of my bedroom, shoulders hunched, hands shaking. The same posture he had every time the gambling got out of control.

But this was different.

"I made a deal, Val."

The number hit me like a closed fist. "What kind of deal?"

"The kind you don't refuse."

I was already moving, grabbing my phone, calculating. How much did we owe this time? Ten grand? Twenty? I had three thousand saved. I could pull a double shift, beg Tony for an advance,

"Three million."

The number stopped me cold.

"What?"

"Three million dollars." He said it like it was someone else's debt. Someone else's problem. "I couldn't pay. And the man I owe... he doesn't accept excuses."

"Then let him break your legs." My voice came out flat. Dead. "That's what they do, right?"

"He didn't want my legs, Valentina."

Silence.

The apartment hummed around us. Someone's TV through the wall. A car alarm outside. Normal sounds from a world that was about to end.

"He wanted me."

My father nodded.

"You sold me."

"I traded your debt for mine." He said it like there was a difference. "One year. That's all. Then you're free."

"One year of service." I laughed, and it came out ugly. "What exactly does that mean?"

"He wants... a wife. On paper. For one year. He gave me his word it would be in name only..."

"His word." I was backing toward my closet now, toward the go-bag I kept packed because I'd always known something like this would happen. "Some mobster promises you he won't hurt your daughter, and you just, "

"He's not just some mobster." My father's voice cracked. "He's Dante Caruso."

The name hit me like a slap.

Everyone in certain circles knew that name. The Don who took over at twenty-five. The man who controlled Manhattan's underworld with a whisper and a smile. The Collector, they called him.

Because what Dante Caruso wanted, Dante Caruso got.

"You sold me to the Collector."

"Valentina..."

"How long do I have?"

He checked his watch with trembling hands. "Fifty minutes now. His men are coming."

I grabbed my bag and started throwing clothes inside.

---

MIA val??? you haven't answered in an hour should I be worried

VALENTINA pack a bag my dad sold me to the mafia

MIA WHAT

ELENA I'm calling the police

VALENTINA don't it'll make it worse

MIA VAL WHAT IS HAPPENING

VALENTINA I have to go someone's at the door

---

The buzzer made me jump.

Too soon. He said fifty minutes. It had been twenty, maybe.

I heard my father's muffled voice, then footsteps in the hall.

A man appeared in my doorway. Dark suit, calm face, expression giving nothing away. Young, probably late twenties. He looked at my half-packed bag, then at me.

"Miss Russo?"

"That's me."

"I'm Luca. Mr. Caruso sent me to escort you."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No." He said it gently, like that made it better. "But I can promise you'll be treated well. Mr. Caruso is... particular about his arrangements."

Particular. That was one word for it.

I grabbed my bag. Walked past Luca, past my father who was wringing his hands in the kitchen saying something about calling and visiting and seeing me soon.

I didn't look back.

The door closed behind me with a soft click.

The most final sound in the world.

Outside, a black town car waited at the curb. Luca held the door open.

I slid into leather so soft it didn't creak.

The man who now owned me sat on the far side.

Dante Caruso was already in the car.

Grey eyes swept across my face without a single change in expression.

Waiting for me.