Chapter 1: The weight of debt

Della's POV

I pasted on a tired, practiced smile as I welcomed another wave of guests into the high-end concert hall. Today was the wedding reception for the son of one of New York’s wealthiest dynasties, meaning the room was packed with old money and high society. Honestly, this was the biggest hit I’d booked in six months; the rest of my calendar had just been small-time, low-paying ushering gigs.

"Della, Matt’s looking for you," Christal, my coworker, whispered, tapping my shoulder as I stepped aside to let a guest pass. "He's behind the stage. Said it’s urgent."

I suppressed a heavy sigh. I was already running on fumes, but there was no room for exhaustion in my world—not with the mountain of debt suffocating my family.

"Okay, thanks," I murmured, offering a polite nod to an older guest who had been staring at me for entirely too long. Dante Romano. Head of Romano Enterprises. A powerful man, sure, but I couldn't care less about his resume.

I walked at a brisk pace toward the backstage area, spotting Matt a few feet away. His blond curls were a chaotic mess on his head, a surefire sign that he was stressed out.

"Hey Matt, Christal said you needed me?" I said.

He looked up, his brown eyes locking onto mine with an intense, uncharacteristic seriousness.

"Della, I need you to personally take care of Dante Romano," Matt said, his gaze unwavering. "He sent one of his bodyguards to ask for you specifically."

"Matt, no. Absolutely not," I snapped, disgust rising in my throat. "We both know what a man like that wants. He’s a perverted old creep looking for young blood to suck his dick, and I am definitely not doing that dirty work."

"I get it, Della. Trust me, I do," Matt pleaded, holding his hands up defensively. "But you just have to ride this out. I’m not asking you to do anything crazy or go anywhere with him. Just attend to his table, stand by him, and cater to whatever he needs for the day."

"Look, Matt—"

"Della, we’re talking five thousand bucks here."

My eyes went wide. "Five grand?"

"Five grand," Matt confirmed. "So, are you in or out?"

Five thousand dollars. That could change everything right now. It wouldn't clear all our debts, but it would pay off Chris's outstanding tuition fees, buy Mabel a working phone to replace her broken one, and finally restock our empty pantry. We were practically living on crumbs. I could get Mama and Dad’s medications, and maybe even save a little for a laptop to find a remote job.

"Della?" Matt prodded, snapping me out of my trance.

"I'm in," I said, my voice tight. "But I don't have to leave the venue with him or go to his house, right?" I needed to be absolutely sure. I wasn't about to let some man old enough to be my father touch me inappropriately.

"No, nothing like that. Now go on," he said, giving me an encouraging smile. "And please, Della, keep that beautiful smile on. This could open doors for more high-paying gigs."

"Fine," I groaned under my breath, forcing a bright, fake smile onto my face.

I smoothed down my uniform and headed back out to the floor. If I didn't need the cash so desperately, I wouldn't even breathe the same air as this man.

I made my way over to his table, which was draped in fine orchids and littered with half-empty wine glasses. Dante was laughing with a few other wealthy older men. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into his line of sight.

"Good evening, Mr. Romano. I was told you requested my assistance?" I said, standing close to his chair.

"Ah, yes, Della," he purred. His thick Italian accent did nothing to soften the unpleasant sight of his crooked teeth. His bald spot was poorly concealed by a bad comb-over, and his skin looked leathery and worn. His eyes immediately traveled down my body, lingering on my chest and bare thighs. It made my stomach turn.

"Would you mind getting my friends and me another round?" He gestured vaguely to the men around him, his eyes never leaving me. "We'll have Moët & Chandon Impérial, Dom Pérignon, Hennessy XO, and some Blue Label."

"Of course, Mr. Romano. I'll be right back.”

I turned to leave, but a hand suddenly gripped my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. Looking down, I saw Dante’s wrinkled fingers resting against my skin. A jolt of panic hit me, and I instinctively yanked my hand back. The sudden movement caught the attention of his friends, who paused their conversation to look over.

Calm down, Della. Five thousand dollars. Just think of the money.

"Apologies, Mr. Romano," I lied smoothly, forcing my voice to remain sweet. "I felt something wet on my sleeve and it startled me."

"Don't worry, Della," he smirked, his crooked teeth on full display. "I can think of plenty of ways to get you wet."

My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I took a slow breath to steady myself. "Let me go fetch your orders, sir," I said, turning on my heel before I could lose my temper.

"I saw that," Christal whispered, falling into step beside me as I hurried toward the bar.

"Christal, please, not right now," I snapped, rubbing my forehead. "I'm stressed, and I don't have the time."

"You never have time, El."

I stopped walking. "Chris, please."

Recognizing the genuine exhaustion in my voice, she finally relented and walked away. Thank God. I didn't have a single drop of energy to waste on arguing; I still had my second shift tonight.

"Can I get an order for table seventeen?" I asked the bartender behind the counter. "They want Moët, Dom Pérignon, Hennessy XO, and Blue Label."

"You got it." He nodded, immediately reaching for the premium bottles.

I leaned against the counter, massaging my temples and praying I could get through the rest of the night without a disaster. When the waiter loaded up the tray, I followed closely behind him back to the lion's den.

~~~

The rest of the evening passed without any major incidents, thankfully. I played the part of the attentive hostess, tolerating Dante's subtle leers until the event finally wrapped up. True to his word, Matt handed me an envelope packed with my cash before I left.

I practically ran to a 24-hour store, grabbing groceries and essentials. I couldn't afford the laptop just yet—the rest of the money had to go straight toward our crushing debts—but a heavy weight lifted from my chest as I hailed a cab.

When I let myself into the house, the living room lights were still on. Mama and Papa were sitting at the kitchen table, talking in hushed, worried tones. Chris and Mabel were nowhere to be seen, likely asleep. My parents were so deeply engrossed in their conversation about our financial ruin that they didn't even notice me walk in.

"Discussing it won't make the money magically appear," I interjected gently. Mama gasped, jumping slightly at the sound of my voice. "I'm already handling it. I’ll pay off the debt," I continued, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter. "He gave us a deadline, and we still have time. I have to head to the lounge for my next shift right now, but here are some things we needed. We'll talk more in the morning." I kissed Mama’s cheek. "Bye, Dad. Make sure to lock the doors properly behind me."

Outside, I checked my phone: 9:00 PM. I groaned softly. I just hoped Dan wouldn't chew me out for being late today.

Fortunately, the lounge was relatively quiet when I arrived, so I managed to slip into the back room to change into my uniform without getting scolded. Every muscle in my body was screaming in protest. As I stepped out of the locker room, I ran right into my manager.

"There you are. I was just looking for you," Dan said.

"Here I am," I managed a tired smile. "Ready to go."

"Your regular is waiting at his usual table. And remember—strict no-touching policy," he reminded me.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

~~~

By the time I finished catering to my last client, it was 1:00 AM. I ordered a rideshare home, collapsing into the back seat and falling asleep almost instantly.

"Ma'am? We've reached your destination." The driver’s voice broke through my heavy sleep.

I blinked open my gritty, exhausted eyes, thanked him, paid, and dragged myself out of the car. Stepping inside the quiet house, I was surprised to see both of my parents still sitting up, the tension in the room palpable.

"Hey, Mama, Dad... what are you two still doing up?" I asked, stifling a massive yawn. The fatigue felt etched directly into my bones.

Mama looked up at me, her face pale and her hands trembling with sheer terror as she stood few feet away from me. "Lorenzo Moretti... he's coming, Della."

A cold dread washed over me, instantly freezing the exhaustion in my veins. "He's coming?" I whispered.