CHAPTER 3: Not for Sale

Neera stood in her balcony, the skyline behind her glowing gold and steel. The letter burned quickly in the fireproof dish she kept for other purposes — evidence disposal, mostly. She watched it curl and blacken until nothing but ash remained.

Kieran Renzaro’s offer — his arrogant, polished, impossible offer — was reduced to smoke.

And she didn’t flinch.

She wouldn’t play his game. Wouldn’t be someone’s pawn, no matter how shiny the paycheck or how seductive the power behind it. She wasn’t for sale.

Not to a man like him.

Especially not to him.

She could still see his eyes from that day in court. Calm. Piercing. Not the kind of calm that comes from peace — but the kind that comes from control. From knowing the world bends for you. That lives disappear when you say the word.

The kind of calm you see in the mirror when you've stopped believing in mercy.

She had no doubt now — Kieran wasn’t just connected to the mafia.

He is the mafia.

Or at least, one of the men who made it bleed.

And her father had been a man who refused to bow to that kind of power.

Six years, and she still didn’t have answers. No footage. No witnesses. Just red on the restaurant floor and a daughter who’d climbed her way into law with rage for oxygen.

Now, the man who might’ve ordered that hit had handed her an envelope like it was an invitation to dinner.

She threw the last glowing ember of the letter over the edge of the dish. It vanished into darkness.

“Burn in hell,” she muttered.

And for the first time in days, she slept.

—

Three days later, she was ripped awake by a knock at her door.

It was 2:17 a.m.

The knock came again. Firm. Authoritative.

She grabbed her phone and checked the hallway camera. Two NYPD officers. Uniformed. One with a clipboard. One with his hand near his holster.

She opened the door, heart already in her throat.

“Neera Ellaria Miller?” the taller officer asked.

She nodded.

“We need you to come with us, Ma'am.”

Her body tensed. “What’s this about?”

“It’s your brother. Nathan Miller. He’s in custody.”

Her heart stopped.

“What? Why?”

The officer looked down at the clipboard. “Multiple charges. Trafficking. Illegal arms. Possession with intent to distribute. Attempted sale across state lines. There’s a federal interest involved.”

She stared, stunned. “What the hell are you talking about? My brother teaches high school calculus and gets anxious ordering pizza.”

“I’m just here to bring you in, Ma’am.”

—

The precinct was cold. Sterile.

She’d spent years there — just never on the other side of the glass.

Nathan sat hunched over the metal table, hands cuffed in front of him. His knuckles were bruised, his eyes bloodshot. He looked up the moment she stepped inside.

“Eya,” he whispered. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I know.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I know, Nathan. I’ll fix this.”

But even as she said it, something twisted in her gut.

The list of charges was too long. Too precise. Too clean.

They’d raided his apartment. Found a storage unit he didn’t know he had. Inside were unregistered firearms, half a kilo of cocaine, burner phones, ledgers with his name signed at the bottom.

Impossible.

He was the kind of man who cried when she got him a new laptop because his old one had died. He drank chamomile tea and binge-watched documentaries about penguins.

This wasn’t just a mistake.

This was an execution.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, the smoke from Kieran Renzaro’s letter rose again.

She stood and walked out of the room, heart pounding harder with every step.

—

By morning, the media had the story.

“Math Teacher-Turned-Drug Lord Arrested in Shocking Sting.”

She slammed her phone on her desk and stared out the window. Her office suddenly felt smaller, tighter.

A trap.

The charges were holding up. Every shred of evidence tied Nathan’s name to the operation. His fingerprints. His emails. Surveillance footage.

It was air-tight.

Too air-tight.

And Neera knew better than anyone — airtight cases were the messiest ones of all. Because real criminals made mistakes.

This?

This was curated.

She opened her laptop. Searched again.

Kieran Renzaro.

Still no concrete criminal record. No legal paper trail. Just whispers. Rumors. And one curious truth: every man who had ever gone public against him either vanished or bled.

She should’ve expected this.

She’d burned the offer.

Now he’d returned the favor — with fire of his own.

Her office door creaked. It was Amy.

“Attorney? There’s someone here to see you.”

“I’m not taking meetings today.”

“I think you’ll want this one.”

Neera sighed. “Who is it?”

Amy hesitated. Then she said, “He said his name is… K.R.”

Every muscle in her body went still.

She turned.

He was already there.

In the doorway.

Tailored suit. Dark eyes. That unreadable calm again.

Kieran Renzaro stepped inside her office like he owned the building. Like he owned the air.

He didn’t speak until the door clicked shut behind him.

“I assume you’ve heard about your brother.”

She said nothing.

He stepped forward. “I’d like to make the offer again.”

Neera’s voice was a blade. “And I’d like to press assault charges for intimidation and conspiracy.”

He tilted his head, as if admiring her. “You’re brave. That’s admirable. Rare.”

“Don’t flatter me.”

He paused, then leaned casually against her desk. “I didn’t have your father killed, Attorney Miiler. He was an honorable man. I respected that. But he did make enemies. I’m not the only one with power in this city.”

She didn’t believe him. Not fully. But his voice didn’t waver.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a second envelope.

Red this time.

She stared at it.

“Take the job. One year. Your brother walks.”

Her breath caught.

He placed the envelope on the desk between them. “You know where to find me.”

And then he left.

No guards. No chaos.

Just calm. Too calm.

Neera stared at the red envelope, hands shaking.

One year. Her brother’s freedom.

A devil’s bargain.

Her reflection in the glass window behind her looked like a stranger.

No one’s for sale.

But this time, she wasn’t sure.

Because Nathan had always been the one thing she couldn’t lose.

And now she had to choose.