Chapter 2a - Molly

I took a deep breath as I stood to deliver the opening statement, my hands trembling ever so slightly. Get it together, Molly, I told myself. You've practiced this a hundred times. But as I faced the jury and began speaking, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The weight of someone's stare pressed down on me, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

My eyes involuntarily flickered to the defense table, searching for the source. And that's when I saw him. Piercing blue eyes bored into me, undressing me as I addressed the jury. I faltered for a split second, momentarily losing my train of thought. Who was this man with dirty blond hair and chiseled features? His penetrating gaze unnerved me, even as it sent a shiver of excitement down my spine.

I forced myself to look away, to focus on the task at hand. But I could still feel his eyes on me, that intense stare I imagined could see right through me. My cheeks grew warm, and I knew I was blushing furiously. Get it together, Tate! You're a professional, I scolded myself. But my flustered state was evident. The jurors exchanged puzzled glances, no doubt wondering why the prosecutor seemed so rattled.

Over the next few hours, I sneaked glances at the mysterious stranger whenever I could, hoping to understand his sudden fascination with me. Our eyes met and held for a heartbeat - blue boring into green - before one of us looked away. Yet his gaze remained constant, tracking my every move like a panther stalking its prey.

When court adjourned for the day, I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The stranger's presence had consumed my focus, scattering my thoughts like leaves in the wind. I had never been so affected by someone before. As I gathered my things with trembling hands, I knew one thing for certain - I had to learn his identity. Who was this man who had left me so unhinged with just a look?

I didn't dare turn to meet his gaze again for fear I would come completely undone. I kept my eyes down and made for the exit on unsteady legs, feeling his stare follow me until I was out of sight. Even then, I could still feel the power of those mesmerizing blue eyes.

I pull up to my childhood home, my heart in my throat. Dad's frantic call sent me racing over here, barely stopping to throw on clothes. I pray this isn't as bad as I fear.

Taking a deep breath, I unlock the front door with trembling hands. The stench of stale beer and cigarettes assaults me immediately. I follow the sound of pained groans to the living room.

"Dad!" I gasp, rushing to his side. He’s sprawled on the couch, his face a mass of ugly bruises and swelling. One eye is nearly swollen shut.

"Molly," he slurs, clearly drunk despite his injuries. "Thank God you're here."

I help him sit up, anger and despair warring within me. "What happened?" I demand. "Who did this to you?"

Dad grimaces, pain etched on his battered face. "The Moroni brothers. I owe them fifty grand."

"Fifty grand?" I repeat in disbelief. My outrage grows. "I thought you were done gambling!"

He won't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, honey. I was just so desperate. The bank is foreclosing on the house. I thought I could win the money to stop it."

I want to scream. To shake him hard and make him see reason. But I just sigh and sink down beside him on the couch.

"Dad, I don't have that kind of money. My student loans ..." My voice breaks as tears prick my eyes.

He takes my hand in his, wincing. "I know, Molly. I'm so sorry to drag you into this." His face crumples. "They said they'll break my legs if I don't pay in 48 hours."

“In 48 hours?” I exclaim, feeling sick at his words. The Moroni brothers are ruthless thugs, muscles for the mob. They won't hesitate to carry out their threats.

"What am I going to do?" I whisper, more to myself than Dad. I am barely keeping us afloat on my meager salary. Jamie is constantly in trouble too, needing bail money and lawyers.

Dad squeezes my hand weakly, his eyes bleary with drink and pain. "It'll be okay, honey. We'll figure something out."

But I can see the hopelessness in his eyes. He knows there is no way out of this. We don’t have that kind of money and sure as hell, can’t gather it in 2 days. And now his mistake will cost him so much more than money.

I help Dad to bed, where mom already lies fast asleep. Her wheelchair is next to the bed. Dad should’ve been here to help her into bed. She could’ve fallen. My thoughts are spinning wildly. There has to be a solution. I can't stand by and let him be crippled too or killed over a gambling debt. But where can I possibly find that kind of money?

Dad is soon snoring, the alcohol and pain meds pulling him under. I stare blankly at the foreclosure notice on the kitchen table, the mountain of unpaid bills. Then I drop my head in my hands, finally letting the helpless tears fall.

The future stretches before me, bleak and terrifying. I don't know how we will survive this. But giving up isn't an option. I have to be strong, to protect what is left of my family.

Wiping my eyes fiercely, I stand. I will start making calls first thing in the morning. I'll go to every bank, every government agency, and anyone who could possibly help. There has to be a way.

48 hours …who am I kidding? I have no choice but to go groveling to my boss to beg him for a loan. God, I hate that arrogant prick.