CHAPTER ONE
EMMA'S POV
The ceiling in the washroom keeps dripping. The bucket I had placed under it earlier is full to the brim. I pour it in one of the toilets and place it back.
Some of the stalls are closed, the toilets broken. Add the ceiling, the broken oven, and paying the workers. It's a lot of money. A lot of money I don't have.
I sigh as I pat my hands on the apron. Dad is unable to help. He lost a lot of money paying for Mom's chemotherapy, and then paying for the funeral. It seems like I've got to take up another loan. Even from multiple jobs, I am still unable to pay off some of the bills. The bakery helps sometimes, but at times like this, we barely have customers.
I head off to the register and start counting what we made in a day. The bell on the doorway jingles as my dad, Michael Chen, steps inside. He is in a faded button-up and faded jeans. His graying hair is wet, pushed back, hiding his bald spot. The outer corners of his eyes are covered in wrinkles. His once healthy frame has reduced to a slim one, all of his clothes baggy.
His warm smile lightens up his face when he notices me. Sometimes, when I look at him, I feel like I failed him. At 26, I should be successful. Have enough money to retire my dad. Nonetheless, he is always proud of me.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing here so late?" he greets.
I wave my hand away as I fix him a cup of coffee. He has a night shift in an hour, and I always give him a cup and some pastry. I do this every day, and he always shares his discomfort in me doing it.
"I was just cleaning up. You caught me a minute sooner before closing," I reply, handing him the steaming beverage.
He chuckles in response. "You need to go out and start dating. When I was your age, no one could hold me down. Well, your mother did, but the point is..."
I roll my eyes as I chorus with him, "Enjoy life while you still can."
He looks at me through his glasses and sips his coffee. I make myself busy with wiping the tables, even though I did it thirty minutes ago.
"Have you had dinner..."
He doesn't finish his sentence as a stone crashes through the window. I scream and run to my father's side. Three masked men in dark clothes enter through the broken glass.
I wince at the expenses. Great, another thing to add to the electricity bill.
Just great.
Wonderful.
Amazing.
Lucky me.
They move in sync as they approach us, cowering beside the counter.
"Who are you?" my father's shaking voice asks.
I cringe. They certainly aren't going to offer their names, Dad. Like, 'Hello, sorry for going through the window, even though there was a huge sign pointing at the door. I am Thomas, pleasure to make your acquaintance.'
They laugh.
"Did you wet your pants, old man?" one of them taunts.
I watch at the corner of my eye as one of them grabs the frames on the walls and smashes them to the ground. Another turns the table over and smashes it with his foot.
Why don't they also smash the plates on my head while they are at it?
"You are a pretty little thing, aren't ya?" The man's gaze turns to me, his deep voice coming from behind the mask.
"We can play with her, right?" the left one asks him, who I guess is their leader.
The man doesn't take his gaze off me when he asks, "What say you?"
I gingerly show them my middle finger, and they laugh even more.
"Emma, manners!" my dad scolds, and I nearly resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Sure, maybe I can also drop a curtsy.
"Mikey, you going to tell your daughter here why we came?" the leader asks, coming to a crouch in front of us.
My dad visibly swallows. I turn to glance at him behind me.
"Dad..."
He looks down at the ground, avoiding my eyes. His palms are drenched with sweat, his shoulders shaking. He is scared.
I turn my glare to the leader.
How dare they?
I stand up to my full height, which isn't intimidating considering I'm only 5'3". I feel pretty small as the man also stands, which is like 6'2", give or take.
"When you boys were busy chitchatting and remodeling the place," I give the left and right a glance, "I signaled the police."
I am bluffing. My phone died, and I have no idea where it is.
He doesn't call my bluff, but he commands his men to stop. He turns to my dad. "Since your princess decided to be a smart ass and called the authority, I will inform Mr. Salvatore, and he will personally come to collect what's his."
He turns and leaves, taking his men with him. I turn to my dad, who is shaking, maybe in the middle of a panic attack.
"Dad, breathe in, breathe out. It's okay. They left. We are okay," I assure him, taking his phone and calling 911.
After stating my issue, my dad grips my hands in his, tears rolling down his face.
"I took a five million dollar loan from Xander Salvatore. Those were his men, loan sharks. He wants his money back..."
My jaw drops. "Why..."
"I never told you I took loans for your mom's medication, for this bakery your mom loved, and for your art school. Mr. Salvatore came to me with an offer, and I couldn't refuse. I am so sorry, Emma."
He apologizes, and I wrap my arms around him.
"We will find a way, Dad. We always do," I say. It even feels shallow in my own ears.
He shakes his head, and his arms around me tighten. "You don't understand. He'll kill us both. Xander Salvatore doesn't forgive."
