Falling for my devil mafia

The Debt Isabella's hands trembled as she stared at the blood-stained envelope on her kitchen table. Inside, a single photograph of her father bound to a chair, and a note: Three million. Tuesday. Or he dies. The front door splintered open before she could process the threat fully. Damiano Torrino stepped through, his expensive suit pristine despite the violence that preceded his arrival. Two men flanked him, their bulging jackets leaving little to imagination. "Your father made promises he couldn't keep," Damiano said, his voice eerily calm. He picked up a framed photo of Isabella's graduation, studying it with predatory interest. "Gambling debts have a way of... multiplying." "I don't have that kind of money," Isabella whispered. Damiano's smile was razor-thin. "Then we'll discuss alternative arrangements." His gaze swept over her apartment, calculating. "A smart girl like you—Columbia graduate, marketing executive—surely understands the concept of collateral." The implication hung heavy in the air. Isabella's world collapsed into a single, terrifying choice: find three million dollars in four days, or become the currency that paid her father's debt. "The clock starts now," Damiano said, disappearing as suddenly as he'd arrived. Isabella collapsed against the wall, her mind racing. Three million dollars. Her father's construction company had been struggling for months, but she never imagined it was this bad. The offshore casino receipts she'd found in his office last week suddenly made horrifying sense. Her phone buzzed—a text from an unknown number containing her father's location. The warehouse district. She grabbed her keys with shaking hands. Maybe she could reason with them, negotiate terms, buy more time. But as she stepped outside, a black sedan pulled up to the curb. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Damiano's cold stare. "Going somewhere, Isabella? I thought we might take a drive together. Discuss your... payment plan.”