Trato Hecho, Jefe.

**ARIA**

It was exactly 11:47 PM when I got the call.

And right then and there, I knew something was wrong.

Dad's name kept flashing on my screen, causing my stomach to drop instantly.

Why was he calling? He never called this late. Never called at all, actually. Not since Mom died, the money dried up, and he started spending more time at underground poker tables than at home.

With shaking hands, I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Aria." His voice cracked and wet, like he'd been crying. It made my stomach drop even more. "Aria, baby, I need you to listen very carefully."

I sat up in bed, heart already hammering beneath my ribs. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to come to the Apex building downtown. Fifty-second floor. Right now," he begged.

"What? Dad, it's midnight. I have work in the morning—"

"Now, Aria." He cut me off before I could finish listing out a million reasons why I couldn't. There was something in his voice that made my skin crawl.

Just when I was about to respond, he spoke again.

"Please. I'm begging you. Just come. And don't tell anyone."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, hands shaking.

*Oh no.*

*What has he done now?*

I should have blocked his number and gone back to sleep. Instead, I threw on jeans and a sweater, called an Uber, and headed straight to the Apex building.

---

The Apex building was all black glass and steel. The kind of place that screamed dirty money. I'd never expected to be standing there.

What would Dad even be doing here?

The lobby was empty except for a single security guard who barely glanced at me before waving me toward the elevators.

"Fifty-two," he said.

He was expecting me.

My pulse kicked.

My legs wobbled as I made my way to the elevator. I watched the numbers climb, each one tightening the knot in my chest.

When the doors opened, it felt like I'd stepped into a horror movie.

My dad was sandwiched between two men in dark suits who held him like he was a prisoner. His shirt was torn, blood trickling from his nose, one eye already swelling shut.

"Dad!" I screamed, already running down the dimly lit hallway.

"Stop." One of the men held up his hand. "He's fine. Just a little disagreement."

I skidded to a halt, chest heaving. "What the fuck is going on?"

Dad's head hung low, shoulders shaking. He wouldn't even look at me.

Somehow, that made it worse.

The man smiled. Cold and wicked. "Your father will explain. Inside."

He gestured to the massive double doors behind him. Carved wood, brass handles. The kind of doors that cost more than my entire apartment.

"I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what's happening."

"You don't have a choice, Miss Finner," the second man said. "Your presence was requested. You can walk in on your own, or we can carry you. Either way, you're going inside."

My father finally looked up, and what I saw in his eyes made my blood run cold.

Shame. Guilt. And something else I couldn't name.

"Please, Ari," he whispered. "Just go inside. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

But they were already opening the doors, and the second man had his hand on my elbow, steering me forward into the massive office.

Two men sat inside. They looked like lawyers.

"Miss Finner." The one on the left stood, extending a hand I didn't shake. He didn't seem bothered. "Please, sit."

"I'll stand."

"Suit yourself." He slid a thick manila folder across the table toward me. "We have some documents that require your attention."

I didn't move. "What's going on? Where's my dad?"

"Being attended to. He'll join us shortly. But first, we need to discuss the terms of your father's debt."

My mouth went dry. "His what?"

The man opened the folder, revealing page after page of contracts, signatures, legal jargon I couldn't process. "Your father borrowed a substantial sum from Mr. Black. Twelve million dollars, to be exact. The terms were very clear. Repayment within two years, with interest, or collateral would be collected."

Twelve million. *Jesus Christ.*

"The deadline was three days ago," the second man added, almost gently. "Your father has been unable to fulfill his obligations."

"So what?" My voice came out higher than I wanted. "You're going to take his car? His house? He doesn't have anything left, you can't—"

"We're not here for his car, Miss Finner."

The first man pulled out another document and turned it to face me.

My photo stared back at me. Not just my photo. My driver's license information. Date of birth. Social security number. Medical records.

And at the bottom, my father's signature.

My breath caught in my throat.

*No.*

*This couldn't be happening.*

"What the fuck is this?"

"A collateral agreement," the man said calmly. "Your father offered you as payment. One year of service in Mr. Black's household, in exchange for debt forgiveness and a grace period to gather funds."

The room tilted.

"How is that even possible?" I asked, vision already blurring. "What kind of service?"

"Whatever Mr. Black requires." His face remained perfectly neutral. "You'll live in his penthouse. Follow his rules. Serve his needs. For three hundred and sixty-five days, you belong to him."

"No." I backed toward the door, mind racing. "No, this is insane. This is illegal. You can't just—"

"It's all legal, Miss Finner. Your father signed the contract when you were still a minor. He had full authority to offer you as collateral. The agreement is binding."

"I didn't sign anything!"

"You don't have to." The second man stood now too, and something in his eyes made my knees weak. "The debt is your father's. The payment is you. Refuse, and we'll collect in other ways."

The threat hung in the air like smoke.

I thought of my father's bloody face. The way he'd begged me to come.

"Where is he?" My voice cracked. "I want to see him. Now."

They exchanged a glance. The first man nodded toward the door.

It opened.

My father stumbled in, supported by the same two men from the hallway. He looked worse up close. Bruises blooming across his jaw, blood crusted under his nose, hands shaking so badly he could barely stand.

"Dad..."

"I'm sorry." Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood. "Aria, I'm so sorry. I didn't have a choice. They were going to kill me. I didn't know what else to do—"

"You sold me."

Heat burned through my chest.

"You sold your own daughter, Dad."

"It's only a year," he sobbed. "One year and then you're free. The debt is forgiven and I'll get the money somehow. I swear I'll fix this—"

"You'll fix this?" Something inside me snapped. "You haven't fixed a goddamn thing in five years. Mom died because you couldn't pay for her treatment. We lost the house because you gambled it away. And now you're trading me like I'm a fucking used car!"

"Aria, please—"

"Get him out of here." I couldn't look at him anymore. "Just get him the fuck out."

The men dragged him toward the door, and I heard his voice breaking as they pulled him away.

"I love you, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

The door closed.

I was alone with the lawyers and the contract.

"We understand this is difficult," the first man said, like he was talking about a parking ticket instead of my entire life. "But Mr. Black is not unreasonable. Follow his rules, fulfill your obligations, and the year will pass quickly."

"And if I refuse?" I forced myself to meet his eyes. "If I walk out right now?"

"Your father will be held responsible for the full debt. Plus penalties. Plus interest." He leaned forward slightly. "They'll find him, Miss Finner. And what happened tonight will be merciful compared to what comes next."

My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms.

I thought about running. Changing my name. Leaving the city and never looking back.

But I knew they'd find Dad. Knew they'd make him pay for my freedom in blood.

Goddamn him. Goddamn his weakness and his debts and his cowardice.

And goddamn me for still loving him enough to care.

"What happens now?"

"You'll be picked up at midnight tomorrow," the first man said. "Pack light. One bag. Leave your phone, your laptop, any communication devices. Mr. Black will provide everything you need."

"How generous," I spat.

"He can be, when his property behaves."

*Property.* The word made my skin crawl.

I looked at the contract. At my own face staring back from that document.

This couldn't be real. Things like this didn't happen in the real world. People weren't bought and sold. Women weren't traded for debt.

Except they were.

In their world, anything could be bought.

Including me.

"Do I have a choice?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"You always have a choice, Miss Finner." His voice was almost kind. "But some choices have consequences you might not survive."

My stomach turned.

"The car will arrive at your apartment at 11:45 PM tomorrow." He handed me a card with an address. "Be ready. Don't be late. Mr. Black doesn't appreciate delays."

I looked like prey.

And tomorrow, I'd meet the predator who owned me.