Chapter 4

The words hung in the air like poison.

Memorial services for both of them. Same day. Different years. Candles lit once instead of twice.

Bianca's knees hit the floor before she even realized she was falling. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through her legs, but she barely felt it. All she could see was the gun. Still pointed at her father. Still held by that expressionless man in the black suit who looked like he would pull the trigger without hesitation if Anna gave the word.

"Please." The word tore out of Bianca's throat, raw and desperate. "Please do not do this."

Anna looked down at her with something that might have been curiosity. "Do not do what, exactly?"

"Do not kill him." Bianca's hands were shaking so badly she had to press them against the floor to steady herself. "Please. I am begging you. Do not kill my father."

"Give me one good reason why I should not."

"Because he is all I have left!" Bianca's voice cracked. Tears were streaming down her face now, hot and fast. "My mother is gone. He is the only family I have. If you kill him, I have nothing."

"That is not my problem," Anna said calmly. "Your father made choices. Choices have consequences."

"He made those choices to save my mother!"

"And yet she died anyway. So what was the point?"

The cruelty of that statement hit Bianca like a physical blow. "You are a monster."

Anna smiled. "I have been called worse."

Bianca looked past Anna to her father. He was still frozen behind the counter, tears running down his face. He looked so old suddenly. So broken.

"Dad, say something. Tell her you will pay. Tell her we will figure it out."

But her father just shook his head slowly, helplessly.

"He cannot pay," Anna said. "He knows it. I know it. And now you know it too."

"Then tell me what you want! There has to be something!"

Anna tilted her head. "You want to know what I want?"

"Yes!"

"I want my money. Two point three million dollars."

Two point three million. The number was so big it did not even feel real.

"I will pay it," Bianca heard herself say. "I will pay you back. Every cent. Just give me time."

Anna laughed. The sound was sharp and mocking. "You will pay me back? You?"

"Yes. I will get the money somehow."

"How? You work in a cafe. What do you make, minimum wage?" Anna pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen. "Let us say you work three jobs. If you work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, with no sleep, no breaks, do you know how long it would take you to earn two point three million dollars?"

Bianca did not answer.

"Four years and four months. And that is assuming you spend absolutely nothing. No food. No rent. Every single penny goes to me. Can you do that, Bianca?"

The impossibility of it crushed down on Bianca's chest. Anna was right. There was no way.

"I do not care," Bianca said, her voice fierce despite the tears. "I do not care how long it takes. I will do it. Just do not kill him."

Anna studied her for a long moment. Then she crouched down so she was at eye level with Bianca. "You really would, would you not? You would work yourself to death trying to pay off his debt."

"Yes."

"Why? He is the one who got himself into this mess."

"Because he is my father. Because he took care of me my whole life. Because when my mother died, he could have fallen apart completely, but he did not. He kept going. He is not perfect. He made a mistake. But he is still my father, and I love him."

Something flickered across Anna's face. It was gone too quickly for Bianca to identify it.

"Fine," Anna said.

Bianca blinked. "What?"

"I said fine. I will not kill your father."

Relief flooded through Bianca so fast she almost collapsed. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"I am not finished. I will not kill your father. But someone still has to pay for this debt. Someone has to be punished."

The relief turned to ice. "What do you mean?"

Anna stood up. "You said you wanted me to punish you instead of your father. Did you mean that?"

Bianca swallowed hard. "Yes."

"You understand that punishment does not just mean working to pay off the debt, correct? It means you belong to me. It means you do what I say, when I say it, without question."

Every word felt like a trap closing around Bianca. But what choice did she have?

"I understand," Bianca whispered.

Anna smiled. "Good." She turned to face Bianca's father. "Marcus, I am going to make you an offer. I will let you live. You can keep your cafe. You can keep your house. But I am taking your daughter. She belongs to me now. And you can only get her back when you have the full payment ready. All two point three million dollars."

"No." The word came from Bianca's father, weak but desperate. "Please. Take me instead."

"That is not the deal. The deal is I take your daughter, or I put a bullet in your head right now. Choose."

Bianca's father looked at her, his eyes full of anguish. "Bianca, no."

"It is already done, Dad." Bianca was surprised by how calm her voice sounded. "I already agreed."

Anna snapped her fingers, and two of the suited men moved toward Bianca. They grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. Bianca did not resist at first. But when they started dragging her toward the door, panic set in.

"Wait! I need to get my things!"

"You need nothing," Anna said.

"Dad!" Bianca was struggling now, fighting against the men holding her. But they were too strong. "Dad, I will be okay! I promise! Just wait for me!"

Her father was stumbling toward them. "Please! Please do not take her! I will get you the money!"

Anna held up one hand, and the other suited men blocked her father's path.

"You have your deal, Marcus. Be grateful I am letting you live."

Bianca was at the door now. The men were pulling her outside into the night air. She could see a black car waiting at the curb.

"Dad!" She screamed it. "Dad, I love you!"

"Bianca! Please!" Her father's voice was breaking. "Do not take her! She is all I have!"

But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The men shoved Bianca into the back of the car, trapping her between them. Anna got into the front passenger seat.

Through the window, Bianca could see her father in the doorway of the cafe, his hands pressed against the glass, his face twisted with grief.

The car pulled away from the curb.