HIS DEBT, MY RUIN

Chapter 3

Lily’s Pov

L.M.’s words stayed in my head as I walked the empty streets. My torn dress pulled at me, a burning reminder that Dayo had betrayed me. Every shadow felt like it might hide someone waiting to hurt me.

My hands shook while I fumbled with the keys outside our building. The hallway inside, which I used to think of as familiar, felt wrong—too quiet, like a closed tomb.

“Dad?” I called, but no answer came. The silence felt loud.

The front door was open a little. Cold fear ran through me. My father was obsessive about locks. He would never leave the door like that.

I pushed it and stepped inside. I stopped short.

Our home was ruined. This wasn’t just a robbery. It was destruction. Couch cushions were slashed and their stuffing lay on the floor. Drawers were pulled out, their contents scattered. Books and papers lay everywhere, and broken glass flashed on the tiles. Even the walls were damaged, with holes and marks.

“Dad!” I shouted, moving quickly toward his room. “DAD!”

His bedroom was worse than the rest of the house. The mattress was turned over. Clothes were thrown around. The window was broken and cold air moved in. There was no blood, no signs of a fight—only the empty feeling of someone taken away.

“Miss Wilson.”

I spun around. Then I sighted a tall man who stood at the entrance. He wore a black suit which fit perfectly. His face could be on a magazine cover, but his eyes were empty and hard.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“My name is Marcus,” he said. His voice was smooth. “I work for Mr. Moretti. He has been waiting for you.”

“I don’t know who that is—” I began.

“No, you don't,” Marcus interrupted. “Your father mentioned you during our… conversations.”

Panic rose up my throat. “Where is he? Where’s my father?”

“Safe for now.” Marcus straightened his tie very carefully, like a small ritual. “Mr. Moretti wants to talk to you. I suggest you come quietly.”

“And if I refuse?”

Marcus' smile sent a shiver down my spine, “Then I will carry you. The choice is yours, Miss Patterson. But you will come with me.”

I looked around at our ruined home. Everything we had was torn apart. My father was gone. Dayo had shown his true side. My father had vanished,I had no one left.

“Okay,” I said, in a low tone.

A black sedan was waiting outside. Its windows were dark like mirrors. We drove past parts of the city I did not know. The luxurious building got taller.

Finally, we stopped in front of a very tall building that reached the sky or so I thought.

“This is the penthouse,” Marcus said when we took an elevator with a special key. “Mr. Moretti’s home.”

The elevator moved upward. When the doors opened, I could only look at the penthouse. It was perfectly decorated.

The penthouse was huge. It had floor-to-ceiling windows which gave a beautiful view of the city below.

The furniture were clean, sleek, had sharp lines, everything in white, black, and silver.

It felt cold and perfect, like a place built more for show than for living.

“You’re here.”

The voice from behind uttered, deep and smooth. The accent was familiar but I couldn’t place.

I turned and froze.

He wasn’t what I had imagined.

Tall and handsome, with a calm face and his dark hair was well groomed.

His suit fits well, showing his broad shoulders.

But his gray eyes were pale,looked cold, showing no kindness.

This was Luka Moretti. The man who held my father’s debt.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice breaking.

“Lucas,” he corrected, and stepped forward slowly, like someone studying an animal. “We need to talk.”

He motioned to a white leather chair. “Sit.”

It was not a request. I sat down, kept my hands together to keep them from shaking.

Lucas sat opposite from me and stared at me like he was reading me.

“Nineteen million dollars,” he said easily. “Plus interest. With late fees and penalties, your father now owes me twenty-three million.”

The number hit me like a fist. “Twenty-three—”

“Million. Yes.” He leaned back without hurry. “Tell me, Lily, what do you know about your father’s gambling?”

“I found out yesterday about his underground poker games,” I said.

“Ah.” He gave a small smile that showed his teeth too clearly. “And how did that make you feel?”

“Angry. Hurt. He was lying to me for months while I—”

“While you worked yourself to the bone to help him,” Lucas finished for me. “Yes. I know everything about those I lend to and about their families.”

A cold shiver ran down my back. “What do you want from me?”

“Good. You’re honest.” He stood and looked out at the city. “Your father can’t pay. He has no money, no property, no job that would cover this. Usually, I write debts off.”

“Write off?” I echoed, confused.

He turned back to me, and his face grew hard. “I would have him killed. Publicly. To scare others who might not pay.”

I shot up from the chair. “You can’t do...”

“I can do whatever I choose,” he cuts in, softly, and it sounded worse than if he had shouted. “I control this city. The police, the courts, the leaders. I am the power here.”

“Then why hasn’t he…?” I couldn’t say the rest.

“Because of you.” Lucas closed the distance between us. His cologne filled the air—expensive, sharp. “Your father offered a different solution. A deal.”

My heart stopped. “What kind of deal?”

“His life for yours.” He said it plainly. “One year of your service, and I erase the debt.”

“Service?” The word felt heavy and wrong.

“You will live here with me,” Lucas said. “You will follow my orders. You will do what I ask, when I ask. No defiance. Your father lives, and you belong to me.”

My head spun. “That’s insane. You can’t own a person.”

"I can buy anything.” He came closer and brushed my cheek with his fingers. They were cold as ice. “And now, I am buying you.”

I pulled back from his touch. “I won’t do it. I refuse to be your... servant.”

“Then your father dies.” He said it like announcing the weather. “Tonight. Marcus will take care of him. Do you want that?”

“No!” I screamed. “Please, no—”

“I can.” He said the words plainly. “I will. Unless you agree.”

I stared at him, at the beautiful, terrible man who held my father’s life in his hands. “What will you make me do?” I whispered.

“Anything I want.” His smile was cold. “You will be my assistant. You will cook, clean, run errands. You will wear what I tell you, go where I tell you, and speak only when given permission.”

“And if I try to run?” My voice was a small, desperate thing.

“You won’t.” Lucas walked to the coffee table and slid a tablet toward me. “You will see why.”

He turned the screen. My father was seated on a chair, his hands and legs both tied up in a dark room. His face had severe bruises, but he was alive. I thought he left.

“Dad,” I breathed.

“He’s asked to see you,” Lucas told me. “He’s been begging for you. Do you want to talk to him?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Then you know what to do.” He set the tablet down and faced me straight on. “One year, Lily. Serve me, and your father will walk free. Try to escape or call for help, and he will be made to suffer.”

I closed my eyes. The choice was a stone in my chest—my freedom or my father’s life. There was nothing I could do.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

"Sign here,"

My shaky hands signed a document instantly.

“Good.” Lucas' smile spread like victory. “Welcome to your new life, Lily. Your year starts now.”