Sign Here, Mrs. Hart

Harper’s POV

I had seventy-two hours to find sixty thousand dollars, and the first ten minutes of it were about to be spent flinching at a man I'd never met, behind a counter that smelled like burnt coffee and cheap floor cleaner.

“Harper, when will you stop being daft? Just when? That look on your face isn’t a smile, damn it!” My manager bellowed as he approached the counter, and I flinched. “Stop being dumb, will you?”

I widened my smile immediately, though my cheeks already ached from smiling too much. It was only my first shift of the day, and it was already exhausting.

“And ring that stuff up quickly,” he yelled again, nearly earning an eye-roll from me.

“Shall I ring these up for you now, ma’am?” I asked the customer in front of me, who had gone back earlier to grab another item, ignoring my manager entirely.

It was how I’d learned to survive his outbursts. Talking back or trying to defend myself only made things worse, and the insults would start raining down.

The customer nodded, and I got to work.

A few minutes later, I heard the entrance door open but didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was just another customer. Then the murmurs started. Instinctively, my eyes lifted, and they landed on six hefty men strolling toward the counter like they owned the place.

How did they know I work here? Panic shot through me.

The men didn’t say a word. They didn’t need to. Their presence alone, stern-eyed and silent, was enough to send the other customers scurrying out the door.

Within moments, the store had emptied.

I swallowed hard as they reached the counter. Even the dull ache in my feet seemed to sharpen with fear.

“Hey, do you really think not picking up our calls makes you invincible?” one of them asked, almost gently, taking a slow drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke in my direction.

I let out a choked cough, which only irritated him further. His fist slammed down on the counter.

My knees buckled, and I staggered backward.

“Please, please—” The words tumbled out as he gripped my shoulders roughly.

“We’re gentlemen. Don’t make us behave out of character, okay? Just pay the damn debt, and we’ll get off your back. Not hard, is it?” He raised an eyebrow, then shook me so hard my head spun and my lips trembled.

My father had been a generous man—generous to a fault, even while he was drowning. When he died two years ago from a sudden stroke, I discovered the loans he’d taken out: a fortune from these predatory sharks, and another $300,000 from the bank, secured against the family estate and his beloved library.

How? Why? What for? Questions I’d been asking ever since, with no one left to answer them.

“Please, give me more time. Sixty thousand dollars is a lot to gather, but I’m trying. Please.” My voice shook as I stared up at the men.

The leader stepped closer. He didn’t look angry—he looked bored, which was somehow worse. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear with mock tenderness.

“Three days, Harper,” he whispered, his breath on my neck making my skin crawl. “That’s seventy-two hours. I’d hate for you to lose track of time.”

Before I could blink, his fist drove straight into my ribs.

The air left my lungs in a scream.

“That’s for day one,” he said.

Another blow caught my stomach, sending me crashing back against the shelves.

“And that’s for the interest,” he added.

Doubled over and gasping, I felt him grab the back of my head and force my face up toward the clock on the wall.

“We’ll save the third mark for when we come back, same time, three days from now. By then, we won’t be aiming for your ribs.”

He took my hand and studied my fingers.

“I wonder which one I should take home as a souvenir.” He straightened his jacket and glanced at my manager, who was trembling behind the soda display.

“Keep the change.” He tossed a crumpled bill onto the counter. “Call it a cleaning f*e for the floor.”

Then he walked out, his men trailing behind him.

I let out a shaky breath once I was sure they were gone, and the tears finally came. But before I could fall apart completely, my manager’s voice cut through.

“What the hell was that, Harper?” he yelled, eyes wide with panic.

“I’m—I’m sorry—”

“No.” He cut me off. “Thugs showing up here is bad for my business, and I won’t have it. You can’t work here anymore.”

His tone left no room for argument.

Dread settled over me. I reached for his hand, pleading, but he yanked it away and told me to leave.

I rode the bus home with unshed tears blurring my vision. My head throbbed and my stomach ached, but none of it compared to the hollow feeling in my chest.

That job was gone now, leaving only my night shift. Two years of working myself to the bone, saving every penny I could, and the debt still wasn’t shrinking.

I already have fifty thousand saved, I told myself, stepping off the bus. I’ll sell what I can to make up the rest. The bank can have its collateral.

I’d managed to save that much only because of Eric, who’d pushed me to keep at it. After my father died and I was left to face everything alone, Eric had been the one bright spot in my life. We’d met in college four years earlier, and he’d been everything I needed—always by my side, always ready to lend a shoulder.

When I reached my apartment, I was startled to find the door unlocked. Eric and I lived together, and he was never home this early.

I pushed it open and froze.

The apartment was strangely empty. The television was gone. So was the gaming console Eric loved. Even the espresso machine had disappeared.

My breath caught as the truth sank in: I’d been robbed. But there was no sign of forced entry.

Cold fear propelled me to the closet, where I’d hidden a safe in the corner. It looked untouched. My hands shook so badly it took three tries to enter the code before it clicked open.

The ledger holding all my savings was gone. I sank to the floor and pulled up my banking app with trembling fingers. Every penny—the fifty thousand dollars I’d nearly killed myself to save—was gone.

“No… no…” Fresh tears streamed down my face. How was this possible? I shook my head, scanning the empty safe as if the money might reappear, when something caught my eye.

A sticky note. I picked it up with shaking hands and unfolded it. The first sentence drove a knife straight into my heart.

I’m sorry, Harper. I didn’t want to do this, but I’m done struggling. You were always so focused on the debt that you forgot how to actually live. I need a fresh start. Consider this my “consultation f*e” for the four years I wasted waiting for you to fix your life.

Goodbye,

Eric

The scream that tore from my throat didn’t sound human.

“Eric!” I screamed, finally understanding: I’d been looted by the one person I trusted most.