The Demand

What could he possibly want from a teenage girl like me?

The question gnawed at Lidia’s mind, sharp and relentless, refusing to loosen its grip no matter how she tried to distract herself.

She had heard the whispers—how cruel and dangerous the man was. The Ice King wasn’t just another mafia boss; he was the boss—over Italy, over Russia, over any territory his shadow dared to touch.

His name was never spoken casually. It lingered like smoke between crumbling walls, in narrow alleyways, and in the corners of the city where fear was not just an emotion but a permanent resident.

He commanded armies of men who obeyed without hesitation. Her uncle was one of them.

She had overheard enough late-night conversations to piece together fragments of the truth about him—cold, ruthless, untouchable.

She hated men like that. People who built their empires on the misery of others, who took whatever joy someone had and disguised it under words like taxes or protection. The Ice King was the walking embodiment of everything she despised.

Even the government kept their distance. The police? They acted as though he didn’t exist at all.

Despite the storm of rumors, only those closest to him knew his true face. To the rest of the world, he was a legend—a shadow draped in ice.

I’m just an orphan. I have nothing to offer. Why would a man like that be interested in me?

Her thoughts slid toward her uncle, and her stomach knotted so tight she could almost hear the strain. He had mentioned a contract. And with that, a sick realization seeped in like poison.

Did he… use me as bait to get it?

Her jaw clenched, rage and disbelief mixing into a bitter taste at the back of her throat.

“He’s no different from the Ice King,” she muttered under her breath.

The weight of it all pressed down on her chest until it was difficult to breathe. She couldn’t sit here and wait to be handed over like a parcel. She needed to move. She needed to vanish.

She grabbed her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she scrolled through her contacts, and pressed Erika’s name. Erika had been her lifeline ever since the day her mother died—a steady, loyal presence in a world that had never stopped shifting under Lidia’s feet.

Two rings later, Erika’s voice floated through the line, warm and familiar. “Hello, Lidia.”

“Hey, Erika.” Lidia forced her voice into something casual, even as her insides trembled. “Are you at home? I… I’d like to come over.”

“Yes! Please do. My parents are away on vacation, and I’ve been feeling lonely,” Erika said eagerly.

“Alright.” Lidia glanced toward the bedroom door, half-expecting her aunt to appear without warning. “I’ll try to sneak out without my aunt knowing.”

“I’ll make your favorite meal,” Erika promised. “So you have to come.”

A small smile tugged at Lidia’s lips despite the tension. “Okay. Thank you, Erika.”

“Bye, Lidia.”

“Bye.”

She ended the call and grabbed her small backpack. She packed only essentials—personal keepsakes, the few things she couldn’t bear to lose. Clothes didn’t matter; Erika always shared hers without question.

She placed the bag beside the bed and laid out her escape in her mind: wait until her aunt and uncle were asleep, slip out quietly, and be gone before morning light touched the streets.

She stretched out on the bed, intending to take a short nap to pass the time, but the sound of a car pulling into the gate jolted her upright.

Her uncle was home.

Her pulse quickened. Maybe if she waited, she’d hear more about this “deal.”

She sat still, silent, until the front door opened and his voice rang through the house.

“Hello, darling, I’m back,” Luca called, his tone unnervingly cheerful.

“Welcome, my love,” Rosario replied, her voice dripping with warmth that Lidia knew wasn’t meant for her.

Moving quietly down the hallway, Lidia stopped just short of the sitting room and pressed herself against the wall.

She heard the sound of paper sliding across a surface. “Here’s the file,” Luca said. “The signed contract with the Morgan Group.”

Her aunt’s voice turned syrupy, almost purring. Lidia could picture it perfectly—Rosario’s carefully painted lips curving into a smug smile, her brown eyes glinting with satisfaction.

Rosario had a beauty that caught attention—smooth curves, striking eyes—but her short stature had kept her forever in the shadow of her elder sister, Lidia’s mother. That shadow had bred jealousy like mold in a dark corner.

When her mother became pregnant, Rosario’s bitterness had bloomed into full-blown spite. The man she loved—her fiancé—had left her. From then on, every interaction with her sister had been laced with venom.

That resentment had gnawed at her mother’s health until the day she gave birth. Lidia had been only hours old when her mother’s life ended.

Since then, Rosario had been her only living family—and her most relentless tormentor. She had made Lidia work alongside the servants, berated her for the smallest mistakes, and lashed out physically when her temper demanded it. She had forbidden her from working outside the house, claiming it was “for her safety” but really fearing she might taste independence.

And now, with the Ice King’s interest, Rosario was torn. On one hand, it was a perfect way to rid herself of her sister’s “bastard child.” On the other, the idea that Lidia could somehow rise from this arrangement, even gain wealth or influence, was enough to make her seethe with rage.

“Lidia! Lidia!” Amelia’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Yes, Aunt,” Lidia answered quickly, stepping into the room.

“Get your uncle a glass of wine,” Rosario ordered, her tone sharp enough to cut.

“Yes, Aunt.”

Lidia hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a clean glass, poured in deep red wine. As she held the glass, a dangerous thought sparked in her mind—this was her chance to listen in.

She wiped the hint of a smile off her face and replaced it with her usual expression of weary submission before carrying the tray back.

Placing the glass carefully on the table, she turned as if to leave. But when their attention shifted, she crouched low, slid beneath the dining table, and stilled herself.

It was dark under there, the tablecloth brushing against her hair, muting the sound of her breathing.

Luca’s voice dropped into something heavier. “The Ice King wants Lidia tomorrow.”

The words slammed into her like a physical hit.

Tomorrow. He wanted her tomorrow.

Her breath caught in her throat, panic clawing up her chest.

Under the table, her fists clenched tight, nails biting into her palms until the sting nearly made her wince.

She had less than twenty-four hours.

And she knew, with bone-deep certainty, that if she didn’t escape before then, whatever the Ice King wanted… she might never return to tell the tale.