Chapter 3

The East District looked worse at night. Streetlights flickered, casting shadows that moved like living things. Broken glass crunched under my feet as I climbed off the bus, and somewhere nearby, a dog barked endlessly at nothing.

Home sweet home.

Mr. Kowalski was waiting in the lobby. Of course he was. He stood by the mailboxes with his arms crossed, his considerable belly straining against a stained undershirt. Mrs. Peterson from 2B lurked behind him, her face eager for drama. The Martinez family pretended not to watch from their doorway, but I could feel their eyes.

"Miss Chen." Kowalski's voice boomed through the cramped space. "We need to talk."

I was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending, tired of holding myself together with duct tape and desperation.

"Mr. Kowalski, can this wait until.."

"Rent was due three days ago." He said it loud enough for everyone to hear. Shame was part of the game. "You're late. Again."

"I know. I'm sorry. I had to take my sister to the hospital, and I lost my job, but I'm looking for another one. I just need a little more time…"

"Not my problem." He pulled out a folded paper from his back pocket. "You have until Friday. Pay the full amount, that's eight hundred dollars, plus the fifty-dollar late f*e or you're out. Both of you."

Friday. The same day as the hospital's first payment deadline.

"Please." The word tasted like ash. "My sister is sick. She's only sixteen. We don't have anywhere else to go."

"Should've thought of that before you decided not to pay your rent." Kowalski shoved the eviction notice at me. "Friday, Miss Chen. Don't make me call the police."

He lumbered past me toward the elevator. Mrs. Peterson followed, throwing me a look that was half pity, half satisfaction. The Martinez family quickly shut their door. I stood alone in the lobby, holding the eviction notice with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

The stairs to the third floor felt like climbing a mountain. Each step was an effort. By the time I reached apartment 3C, my legs were trembling. Inside, our one-bedroom apartment looked even smaller than usual. The secondhand couch I'd found on the curb three years ago sagged in the middle. Lila's textbooks were still scattered on the coffee table from before she got sick. The kitchen sink dripped, a sound I'd learned to ignore.

This was all we had. And on Friday, we'd lose even this.

I collapsed onto the couch, and finally, finally, I let myself break.

The sobs came from somewhere deep inside, a place I'd kept locked for three years. Since Mom and Dad died. Since I became the adult, the caretaker, the one who had to be strong. But I was so tired of being strong. I cried until my throat was raw and my eyes burned. Cried until exhaustion dragged me under into restless sleep.

++++++++

I was twelve again, standing at the top of the stairs in our old house. The nice house, before everything fell apart. Dad's voice drifted up from his office, low and urgent. "I can't keep doing this. They're asking for too much."

I crept down the stairs, my heart pounding.

"I don't care about the consequences," another voice said, a man I didn't recognize. "You took the money. Now you do what we tell you, or your family pays the price."

"Please. My daughters.."

"Should've thought about them sooner."

I watched through the crack in the door as Dad slumped in his chair, his face in his hands. He looked old. Broken. The dream shifted. Now I was fifteen, standing in the hospital corridor. A police officer was telling me there'd been an accident. A car crash. My parents were gone. Both of them.

But before the dream could fade completely, I heard my father's voice one last time, from that night in the hospital when we said goodbye:

"I'm sorry, Aria. I'm so sorry. I did it for you girls. Please believe that. I did it all for you."

POV: Damian Veyron

The surveillance footage played across multiple screens in my penthouse office. Each monitor showed a different angle of Aria Chen's carefully orchestrated destruction.

Screen one: The Velvet Room, earlier tonight. I watched Aria smash the bottle, watched Hendricks go down. Right on schedule. I'd paid Rico an extra five thousand to fire her, and the man had performed beautifully.

Screen two: Hospital entrance. Aria leaving after visiting her dying sister, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Screen three: Her apartment building. The look on her face when Kowalski handed her the eviction notice was exquisite.

"You're still watching her?"

I didn't turn. Adrian Cross stood in the doorway of my office, his expression a mixture of concern and disgust. My mentor. My conscience. My weakness.

"It's been three years, Damian."

"Timing is everything." I leaned back in my leather chair, swirling the whiskey in my glass. "She needed to hit rock bottom first. You can't break someone who still has hope."

Adrian walked into the room, his footsteps heavy on the marble floor. "And now?"

"Now she's desperate enough." I pulled up a document on my tablet, Lila Chen's medical records. I wasn't supposed to have access to these, but money bought many things, including privacy violations. "Her sister dies in two weeks without treatment. She'll lose her apartment on Friday. She has no job, no money, no options."

Adrian's jaw tightened. "You orchestrated all of this? The club incident? The landlord?"

"I bought the club six months ago. The landlord was easier, he's behind on his mortgage. A well-timed payment bought his cooperation." I took a sip of whiskey. "Robert Chen destroyed my brother's life. Now I'll destroy his daughter's hope. Slowly. Thoroughly."

"By forcing her to marry you?" Adrian's voice was sharp. "That's your grand plan? That's supposed to be justice?"

"By making her beg for the privilege." I stood, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Somewhere down there, in her shabby apartment, Aria was sleeping. Probably crying herself to sleep. "She'll sign her life away, and every day after, she'll remember that she sold herself to save her sister. Just like her father sold his soul for money."

"Her father was a good man who made one mistake.."

"One mistake that killed fourteen people!" I spun to face him. "David was nineteen years old. He had his whole life ahead of him. And Robert Chen took it away for half a million dollars."