4.

Dayana stood frozen in the same position, barely able to move.

My voice trembled as I pleaded with them. “Please, there must be some other way to resolve this. We can’t come up with that much money on such short notice.”

Another thug, a wiry man with a scar across his cheek, stepped forward, his demeanor equally menacing.

“You don't understand,” he sneered, addressing me directly. “We've waited long enough. We're done with patience.”

Before I could say another word, the situation escalated rapidly, and before I could react, one of the thugs shoved Dad, demanding their money back with increasing aggression. I felt a surge of anger and fear welling up inside me. Dad, who had always been a symbol of strength in my eyes, was now being subjected to a brutal assault by the merciless thugs.

One of the thugs with a shaved head gave him a blow in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain. His groans of agony filled the room, and Dayana and I tried to pull him off, but all to no avail.

"Please!" I cried out, my voice shaking with desperation. "Stop this! He's in pain, you're hurting him!"

Tears blurred my vision as I watched his face contort in pain. I couldn't bear to see him suffering like this, but I felt utterly powerless to intervene. I knew I had to do something, anything, to try to calm the situation and protect him.

With shaky hands and frame, I took one hesitant step forward and positioned myself between Dad and the thug.

“Please,” I implored. “Stop hitting him; we will find a solution to the whole issue. I promise, just stop.”

The man regarded me with disdain, his eyes narrowing.

“Stay out of this!” He warned in a menacing tone.

But I didn’t. I stood rooted to the spot, not moving or even attempting to move. And suddenly, I felt a sharp shove at my side, and I was sent flying to the side as I hit the dining table with a painful thud. My breath caught in my throat as pain surged through me.

Just then, Dayana let out a piercing scream that seemed to fill the night air. The sound was visceral and heart-wrenching, a cry of anguish and fear.

I tried to open my eyes and get to my feet, but the pain I felt swept over my entire body, holding me down. I remained on my knees, and the next thing I knew, a man stormed into the house clad in an all-black suit. I blinked, trying to decipher who this person was.

Short dreads framed his face, their dark tendrils giving him an air of rugged sophistication. His features were chiseled, and his jawline was sharp and defined. His eyes were dark brown pools that held my hazel ones with an intensity that was almost impossible to ignore. And then, almost immediately, I recognized him, and my eyes dilated in horror. He was Omario, the most feared man in Miami.

What was the most ruthless man in Miami doing in our home? And looking at him up close, I couldn’t deny the fact that he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life. He was simply beautiful, and when my eyes landed on his lips, I forgot where I was for a moment and drank him in.

The room fell into a hushed stillness, the chaos momentarily quelled by his arrival. I remained on my knees, unable to rise due to the pain that gripped me, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from this mysterious man.

The man’s eyes bored into one of the thugs, his gaze unwavering and stern. There was an unmistakable intensity in his demeanor, and it was evident that he was not a man to be trifled with.

He spoke to the man, his voice laced with authority and anger. “What did I tell you? I explicitly instructed that no one in this house should be touched.”

The thugs moved uncomfortably, a stark contrast of how they were earlier. Their precise aggression was now replaced with an uneasiness as they looked down at the ground.

Omario continued to reprimand them, his words a sharp reminder of his authority. "You were supposed to collect a debt, not resort to violence. This is not how we operate."

“Calm down, Omario,” a man whispered behind him. He was also dressed in a dark suit and was lighter skinned and bald.

Whatever was going on in the room, I could tell that Omario’s presence had brought about a transformation, and it was clear that he held the upper hand. And within me, I felt a glimmer of hope that maybe this situation wasn’t that bad and he would help bring a certain resolution.

Omario turned away from the thug and faced me suddenly, making my breath catch in my throat as our eyes locked.

“So, how will you pay me now?” He asked, staring daggers at me.

The question hung in the air like a heavy shroud, and the weight of it settled deep within me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I croaked. It was as if my senses finally came back to me, and I suddenly remembered his connection to the thugs.

The fleeting attraction I had for him was abruptly gone, and a fake shadow was cast over the mysterious stranger. He was basically the man who’d sent thugs after my family, and a bitter taste settled in my mouth.

The man's piercing gaze remained fixed on me, his scrutiny unwavering. There was a brief pause, and then he spoke again, his tone devoid of any sympathy.

“Just to quickly fill you in on what’s happening, your father owes…”

“I know what’s happening!” I yelled, shocking myself.

A small smile played on Omario’s lips, which made me hate him the more. All this was a joke to him, a very hilarious joke, and it irked me to see that.

“Then what solution are you proposing?” He asked. “It can be any form of payment, or we can make an agreement…” he trailed off as his eyes moved over my body, making me self-conscious. “Or we can agree on something else entirely; either way, the debt must be addressed and paid in full.”

“Please, I beg you,” Dayana implored, desperation lacing her words. “Give us some time to figure this out. My father never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” Omario growled.

“Please,” I spoke up now. “Just a little bit of time.”

I was met with Omario’s calculated silence, and I couldn’t read his face for the life of me. It was as if he were weighing my words, trying to see if there was any sincerity in what I was saying. The seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity as I waited for his decision.

Finally, in a voice that held an icy edge, he spoke, "I want my money now, but there’s another solution. You have two days to pay me back my money, or you can decide if you want to go with my ultimatum. It’s up to you all.”

We all nodded quickly, even if we all knew that there was no way we could pay back eighty thousand dollars in two days. Omario and the men turned around and walked out of the house, and I let out a deep breath, which I hadn’t realised I’d been holding in.

As he left, the room seemed to exhale a collective breath, and the oppressive atmosphere slowly lifted. My family and I were granted a temporary respite, but the weight of our circumstances lingered, a constant reminder that we owed Omario Juan Khenan a huge amount of money.