CHAPTER FIVE : BLOOD BARGAIN.

Raymond Bultman had spent the last three nights convincing himself there had to be another way.

There wasn't.

Every bank had rejected him.

Every investor had turned him away.

Friends who once called him "brother" suddenly couldn't answer their phones.

His company was bankrupt.

His home had been sold.

The last of his savings had vanished beneath hospital bills.

Now the only thing separating his wife from death was the one man Raymond had prayed he would never have to face.

Lord Damian Alistair.

Back in school, everyone knew the Alistair family wasn't an ordinary wealthy family. They were the family behind the Sovereign Syndicate, the most feared criminal organisation in the city.

Damian's father had ruled the Syndicate with an iron fist. His reign had plunged the city into years of fear and bloodshed. His name alone was enough to silence entire neighbourhoods, and crossing the Alistair family was considered a death sentence.

Raymond also remembered how harsh the old man had been with his sons, especially Damian.

Despite being born into one of the most ruthless mafia families in the country, Damian had never behaved like the way everyone expected.

He was calm.

Polite.

And exceptionally intelligent.

He minded his own business, rarely got into fights, and quietly helped anyone who genuinely needed him. Teachers respected him. Classmates admired him. Many believed Damian would one day walk away from the darkness surrounding his family and build an honest life of his own.

Raymond had believed it too.

But people were wrong.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, the quiet, charming boy disappeared.

In his place stood a man whose name had become one of the most feared in the city.

Lord Damian Alistair.

The right hand man of his elder brother, Malakai Alistair, the current head of the Sovereign Syndicate.

After inheriting the organisation from their father, the two brothers had transformed it into something far more terrifying than it had ever been before.

The Sovereign Syndicate no longer only had control of the underworld but it controlled politicians, businesses, Ports, Banks and industries.

Its influence stretched far beyond the city limits.

Power. Money. Fear.

The Alistair brothers had perfected all three.

And there wasn't a single person foolish enough to underestimate them.

Raymond had once shared a classroom with Damian.

He had laughed with him.

Studied beside him.

He watched him help classmates with their lessons without asking for anything in return.

Never, not even once had Raymond imagined that quiet young man would become one of the most dangerous men alive.

Life had taken them down very different paths.

Raymond built a business.

Damian raised an empire.

Now Raymond stood outside one of the Syndicate's most heavily guarded properties, wondering if this was the moment he sold his soul.

A guard approached him.

"Mr. Raymond Bultman?"

Raymond nodded.

The guard spoke into a small earpiece before stepping aside.

"My Lord is expecting you."

Those four words made Raymond's stomach tighten.

He followed without another word.

The further they walked, the quieter the building became.

Hidden cameras watched every movement.

Men in tailored black suits stood at attention every few metres. Their jackets concealed firearms, but their posture alone was enough to remind Raymond exactly where he was.

Nobody smiled.

Nobody spoke.

The entire building felt less like a headquarters and more like a kingdom.

At the end of the corridor stood two enormous doors.

One of the guards opened them.

"Go in."

Raymond took a slow breath.

Then stepped inside.

The lounge was elegant beyond imagination.

A grand piano rested near floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.

Rare paintings decorated the walls.

A fireplace burned quietly in the chilling morning.

At the centre sat Damian.

He occupied a black leather chair behind an enormous desk.

A crystal glass of whisky rested in his hand.

He didn't look up immediately.

Instead, he calmly swirled the liquid before taking a slow sip.

Only then did he raise his eyes.

For a brief second...

Neither man spoke.

Years disappeared between them.

Then Damian broke the silence.

"Raymond."

His voice remained smooth and controlled.

As though greeting an old acquaintance over dinner instead of receiving a desperate man inside the headquarters of a criminal empire.

"It has been a long time."

Raymond forced a faint nod.

"It has."

Damian gestured toward the chair opposite him.

"Sit."

Raymond obeyed.

The silence returned.

Damian studied him without expression.

He had become older, much thinner and exhausted.

The confident businessman he had once known had disappeared.

Only a broken husband remained.

"You've changed," Damian observed.

Raymond managed a bitter smile.

"So have you."

For the first time...

A faint smile touched Damian's lips.

"I suppose we both have."

Another silence settled over the room.

It was Damian who ended it.

"You didn't come here to reminisce."

"No."

Raymond's voice was hoarse.

"I came because I have nowhere else to go."

Damian said nothing.

"My company collapsed six months ago."

"I know."

"I've sold everything."

"I know."

"The banks refused me."

"I know."

"My friends disappeared."

"I know."

Every answer was calm.

Every answer reminded Raymond of one terrifying fact.

Damian already knew everything.

Raymond lowered his eyes.

"Rachel's heart is failing."

His voice almost broke.

"The doctors say she'll die if she doesn't have surgery”

"I know."

Raymond looked at him.

"I wasn't going to come."

"I told myself I'd rather lose everything than ask you for help."

He laughed bitterly.

"Turns out I was wrong."

He swallowed.

"I can survive losing my business."

"I can survive losing my home."

"But I can't survive losing Rachel."

The room became silent again.

Finally...

Raymond looked directly into Damian's eyes.

"I need your help."

Damian leaned back.

"How much?"

Raymond Froze.

Damian didn't react.

Raymond continued, “ Ten million rams”

"I'll repay every penny," Raymond said quickly.

"I don't care how long it takes."

"I'll work."

"I'll sell everything I have left."

"I'll owe you for the rest of my life if I have to."

"I'll……."

"I don't make loans." Damian said quietly.

Raymond stopped speaking.

Damian calmly placed his whisky glass on the desk.

The soft clink echoed through the room.

"I make agreements."

Raymond felt hope slipping away.

"Please..."

"I'm begging you."

Damian remained silent for several seconds before pressing a discreet silver button beneath his desk.

Almost immediately, the doors opened.

A man in a charcoal suit entered carrying only a tablet and a portfolio.

He stopped beside the desk and bowed respectfully.

"My Lord."

Damian never looked at him.

"Prepare an agreement."

"Yes, my Lord."

The secretary unlocked the tablet.

His fingers hovered above the screen.

Waiting.

Damian's eyes remained fixed on Raymond.

"The agreement shall cover the full cost of Rachel Bultman's surgery."

The man began typing.

"Include all hospital expenses."

"Medications."

"Post operative care."

"Recovery."

Every word appeared silently on the screen.

Raymond's heartbeat quickened.

This was happening.

Damian continued.

"Repayment period." He paused deliberately.

And he uttered, "Sixty calendar days."

The secretary typed the clause without hesitation.

Raymond frowned.

"Sixty days?"

Damian looked at him calmly.

"You asked for my help."

"And I am offering it."

Raymond nodded slowly.

"I understand." But…... his words were cut short by the secretary.

The secretary looked up.

"And the security for the debt, my Lord?"

Damian's gaze never left Raymond.

A long and deliberate silence filled the lounge.

Then Damian spoke.

"Write this exactly."

The secretary's fingers hovered above the screen.

"Upon failure to repay the debt within sixty calendar days..."

Damian paused.

" The collateral shall immediately and permanently transfer to the Sovereign Syndicate."

Raymond felt his chest tightened.

The secretary looked up again.

"And the collateral?"

Damian responded.

"Melissa Bultman."

Immediately Raymond’s breathing stopped.

He shot to his feet so violently that the chair toppled backwards.

"No."

At first the single word escaped as little more than a breath.

"No!" This time louder.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto Damian.

"You can't be serious!"

The secretary's fingers froze above the tablet.

The guards standing against the walls instinctively shifted their weight, their hands drifting towards the concealed weapons beneath their tailored suits.

The temperature inside the lounge seemed to plummet.

Damian remained seated with a Calm expression, unmoved by Raymond’s outburst.

"I am always serious." He declared.

Raymond shook his head repeatedly.

"Not Melissa."

His voice cracked.

"Please. She's only seventeen."

"Soon to be eighteen," Damian responded.

Raymond’s eyes blinked.

"My point remains!" Raymond shouted. "She's my daughter!"

Damian folded his hands on the desk.

"And Rachel is your wife."

The words landed like a hammer.

"You came here because one life matters more than your pride."

He leaned back.

"I am merely asking you to decide how much another life is worth."

Raymond's breathing became uneven.

"There has to be another way." He said desperately.

"There isn't." Damian lowered his gaze.

"I'll work for you."

"No."

"I'll become your driver."

"No."

"I'll become your cleaner."

"No." Damian said, clearing his throat.

"I'll spend the rest of my life paying you back."

"No."

Each answer came without hesitation and

Without any emotion.

Raymond slammed both palms onto the desk.

"Then take me!"

The guards instantly took a step forward.

Damian raised a single finger.

They stopped.

Raymond's eyes burned with desperation.

"Take me as collateral."

"I'll stay here."

"I'll do whatever you tell me."

"But leave Melissa out of this."

Damian slowly stood.

He walked around the desk with measured steps until he stood directly in front of Raymond.

They were almost the same height.

Almost.

Raymond searched the face of the man he had once called his friend.

He found nothing familiar.

Only calculation.

"You misunderstand something, Raymond."

Damian's voice was almost gentle.

"Collateral must have value."

Raymond flinched.

"You are bankrupt."

"You have no company and no assets ."

"No influence."

"No future."

He paused.

"You have already lost everything."

Another pause. And he said, "So tell me..."

His eyes narrowed.

"What exactly would I be taking?"

Raymond's mouth opened but nothing came out.

Damian continued.

"But Melissa..."

His tone changed ever so slightly.

"Melissa is young."

" She is Intelligent."

"Educated."

"She is also a smart kid."

"I've read her academic records."

Raymond stared at him in horror.

"I know she volunteers every weekend."

"I know she speaks three languages."

"I know her goal is to study law."

"I know she dreams of becoming a prosecutor."

Each sentence felt like another knife twisting inside Raymond's chest.

"You investigated my daughter?"

"I investigate everyone connected to anyone who enters my world."

His knees almost gave way.

"You planned this..."

“I didn't need to.” Damian responded briefly.

Raymond's shoulders slumped.

He covered his face with both hands.

For several moments, the only sound inside the lounge was his broken breathing.

Finally, he lowered his hands.

"If..."

The word barely escaped him.

"If I sign..."

His eyes met Damian's.

"I need something from you."

Damian remained silent.

"I know who you are."

"I know what people say about you."

"I know what happens to people who fall into the Sovereign Syndicate."

His voice trembled.

"I also know something else."

Damian raised an eyebrow.

"You never break your word."

The room became still.

Raymond took one step closer.

"So give me your word."

Damian waited.

"You can make Melissa work."

"You can teach her."

"You can train her."

"But promise me..."

His voice cracked completely.

"...that no one will abuse her."

His breathing became ragged.

"No one will violate her."

"No one will sell her."

"No one will force her into prostitution."

"No one will torture her."

Tears rolled freely down his face.

"And you..."

He looked directly into Damian's eyes.

"...you will never force her to become something so evil that she'll hate herself for the rest of her life."

The secretary had stopped typing.

Even the guards looked away.

For the first time since Raymond entered the lounge,

The room felt human.

Damian studied Raymond for a long moment.

Then he slowly walked back behind his desk.

He rested both hands on the polished desk.

"A father's love."

His voice was quieter now.

"It is... inconvenient."

He looked towards the secretary.

"Add an additional clause."

The secretary immediately resumed typing.

Damian dictated each word slowly.

"'Upon transfer of collateral, Melissa Bultman shall fall under the direct protection and authority of Lord Damian Alistair.'"

The secretary typed.

"'No member of the Sovereign Syndicate shall harm, exploit, assault, traffic, or violate her without my direct authorisation.'"

Raymond listened carefully.

"'She shall receive education, training, accommodation, medical care, and protection equal to any asset personally claimed by the Sovereign Lord.'"

The secretary nodded as he continued typing.

Damian paused.

Then spoke the final clause.

"'Her purpose shall be repayment of debt through service to the Syndicate. She shall not be subjected to unnecessary cruelty.'"

The secretary looked up.

"Anything further, my Lord?"

Damian's eyes returned to Raymond.

"Yes."

A long silence followed.

Then he spoke,

"Write this exactly."

"'What she becomes afterward... will be determined by the choices she makes.'"

The secretary finished typing.

He reviewed every clause.

"The agreement is complete, my Lord."

Damian gave a single nod.

"I want it in five minutes"

"Yes, my Lord."

The secretary locked the tablet, gathered the leather portfolio and quietly left the lounge.

The heavy doors closed behind him.

Silence settled over the room once again.

Neither man spoke.

Somewhere beyond those doors

Melissa Bultman's future was being transformed from words on a screen into ink on paper.

The silence stretched on.

Neither a word was said.

The crackling fireplace became the only sound inside the lounge.

Raymond stood motionless, unable to think.

Unable to breathe, he kept seeing Melissa's face.

Her first day of school.

The day she learned to ride a bicycle.

The little girl who used to run into his arms every evening after work.

How had it come to this?

How had saving one person become the price of sacrificing another?

A soft knock broke the silence.

"Enter."

The doors opened.

The secretary returned carrying a document case.

He approached the desk and placed it before Damian.

"My Lord."

Damian opened the case.

Inside lay several sheets of heavy white paper, each bearing the Sovereign crest embossed in black at the top.

The fresh ink was barely dry.

The agreement now existed.

Not as words on a tablet.

Not as an idea but as a law.

The secretary placed a fountain pen beside the document.

Damian read every page with deliberate patience.

He did not want anything to escape his attention.

He read every clause, every signature line and every word.

When he reached the final page, he uncapped the pen.

His signature flowed across the paper with effortless precision.

Damian Caspian Alistairs. He signed.

He closed the pen, then slid the contract across the desk.

"Read it."

Raymond stared at it without moving.

"You should know exactly what you're signing."

His trembling hands reached for the document.

Every sentence tightened the knot in his chest.

Medical debt agreement...

Total amount...

Hospital expenses...

Repayment period...

Sixty calendar days.

His eyes continued downward.

Then they stopped.

Collateral: Melissa Grace Bultman.

Below it were the additional clauses Damian had ordered.

Under the direct protection and authority of Lord Damian Alistair.

No member of the Sovereign Syndicate shall harm, exploit, assault, traffic, or violate the collateral without the direct authorisation of Lord Damian Alistair.

The collateral shall receive education, accommodation, medical treatment and protection while under Sovereign authority.

Raymond closed his eyes.

The words offered comfort.

Yet somehow,

They terrified him even more.

Because Damian clearly expected Melissa to remain in his world long enough for those protections to matter.

He slowly lowered the contract.

"You already knew."

Damian remained silent.

"You already knew about Melissa before I came here."

"I did."

"You investigated my family."

"Of course."

" Why? " Raymond asked.

“No one walks through my doors, without me knowing who they are “

"I simply refuse to be one step behind."

Raymond looked back at the contract.

His hands shook violently.

"If... "

His voice barely carried.

"If I repay every penny within sixty days..."

"The contract becomes void."

"And Melissa?"

"She remains your daughter."

Raymond searched Damian's face one last time.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Why Melissa?"

For the first time during the meeting...

Damian didn't answer immediately.

He walked toward the floor to ceiling window overlooking the city.

Thousands of lights stretched across the skyline.

He stood with his back to Raymond.

"When we were boys," he said quietly.

"you once told me something."

Raymond frowned.

"I did?"

"You said a person's greatest weakness "

Damian turned slightly.

"Is the one thing they cannot replace."

Raymond remembered.

It had been during a philosophy lesson at school.

He had forgotten the conversation years ago.

Damian hadn't.

"You've lost your money."

"You have lost your business, also lost your reputation”

Damian's voice remained calm.

"You survived every loss."

He looked directly at Raymond.

"But your wife..."

He paused. " And your daughter..."

Another pause.

"They are irreplaceable."

Raymond felt sick, he lowered his head.

He had no more arguments.

No more bargains, and no more hope.

Damian gently pushed the fountain pen closer.

"The hospital is waiting."

The words pierced through Raymond's despair.

Rachel.

She was still lying in a hospital bed.

Every minute mattered, if he walked away now, she would die.

His hand reached for the pen.

It trembled so violently that he nearly dropped it.

A single tear landed on the final page.

Right beside Melissa's name.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered.

He wasn't speaking to Damian.

He was speaking to his daughter.

Then, with a shattered heart,

Raymond signed.

The room fell silent once more.

Damian picked up the contract and examined the signature.

Satisfied, he handed it back to the secretary.

"File the original."

"Provide Mr. Bultman with a certified copy."

"Yes, my Lord."

The secretary bowed and left.

Damian reached for the telephone on his desk.

He dialled a number from memory.

"Transfer funds immediately directly to St. Gabriel Heart Institute, whatever amount. And inform them that payments have been made in full for Rachel Bultman. Surgery should begin immediately. "

He ended the call.

"Rachel's surgery will begin within the hour."

Raymond closed his eyes.

Relief crashed into him with unbearable force.

Rachel would live!

She would wake up.

She would smile again.

But the victory tasted like poison.

Damian rose from his chair.

"You have sixty days."

His voice echoed through the silent lounge.

"On the sixty first day" He paused.

"If the debt remains unpaid..."

His eyes hardened.

" Melissa belongs to the Sovereign Syndicate."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Raymond slowly folded the certified copy of the agreement brought to him and slipped it inside his jacket.

He turned towards the door.

His legs felt numb as he walked out.

The massive doors closed behind him with a deep, echoing thud.

Outside, the corridor seemed longer than before.

Every step felt heavier, in his pocket rested the contract that had saved his wife's life.

And condemned his daughter's future.

Far behind him, Damian stood alone by the window overlooking the city.

He picked up his glass of whisky.

Took a slow sip.

Then spoke quietly to himself.

"Sixty days..."

A faint, unreadable smile crossed his face.