THE MAFIA KING’S DEBT

Chapter 2: Thirty Days

Elena’s pov

I didn’t step aside. The hallway felt narrower with him standing there, but I kept my back straight and my hand on the doorframe.

“You said the files got him killed,” I said. “Start explaining before I call the detective who just left.”

Dante’s expression didn’t change. He glanced once toward the empty parking lot, then back at me. “Harris already logged the scene as a natural death. Calling him again will only waste time you don’t have.”

“Then talk.”

He reached into his jacket and took out a thin folder. No flourish, no threat in the movement. Just paperwork. He held it out. I didn’t take it.

“Your father borrowed thirty million from the Romano family three years ago,” he said. “Interest and terms were clear. He used the money to expand the warehouses and cover losses he never reported to you. The debt is due. He is dead. That makes it yours.”

The number landed harder than the note in my pocket. Thirty million. My father’s company moved freight and stored goods. It was solid, not spectacular. Nothing that required that kind of capital.

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t need to lie. The ledgers are already in our possession. The shipping contracts, the offshore accounts he opened under shell names, the property deeds he signed over as collateral, those are ours now. Your name is on the residential house and the smaller warehouse on 12th. Everything else transferred the moment the medical examiner confirmed the time of death.”

I stared at him. “You can’t just take—”

“We already did.” He set the folder on the narrow table against the wall. “Look through it when you want confirmation. The signatures are his. The timestamps match the transfers. My people have been inside the accounts since six this morning.”

A car idled somewhere on the street. I didn’t look. “Who are you to the Romanos?”

“I collect what is owed. Today that includes making sure you understand the timeline.” He checked his watch once, an unhurried motion. “Thirty days. That is the window. You will produce the missing thirty million or the equivalent in assets we have not already seized. Fail, and the debt passes to more permanent methods.”

“You’re threatening to kill me in my father’s office.”

“I’m stating the consequence. Your father knew the rules when he took the money. He chose to gamble and lose. You inherited both.”

I laughed once, short and sharp. “I inherited a logistics company and a locked filing cabinet. Not a criminal debt.”

“You inherited whatever he left behind. That includes the people watching this building right now.”

He tilted his head toward the window. “Black SUV at the corner. Gray sedan across the street.

They will stay with you until the thirty days end or the money appears. Try to leave the city, sell the remaining property without clearance, or contact law enforcement about this conversation, and the clock shortens.”

I walked to the window and looked. The vehicles were there, exactly as he described. Ordinary enough to blend in. Close enough to matter.

“How long have you been watching him?”

“Long enough to know he was late on two previous payments and that he moved certain records out of this office last month.

Those records are what I want returned along with the money. The note you found on the desk is one of them. Keep it if it helps you believe me. It won’t change the math.”

I turned back. “And if I refuse?”

“Then the next conversation will not be this civil.” His voice stayed level, almost conversational. “I am the polite option, Elena. The Romanos sent me first because your father once did them a favor that bought him this grace period. That favor is spent. After thirty days, different men arrive. They will not leave a phone or a warning.”

He reached into his other pocket and placed a plain black cell phone on the table beside the folder. “This is the only number that will reach me. Use it when you have progress to report or when you decide to be practical. Do not use it to stall. I will know the difference.”

I didn’t pick it up. “You expect me to find thirty million in a month.”

“I expect you to try. Your father had arrangements and contacts he never shared with you. Start with the locked drawer and the empty safe. The combination is the date he bought this building. You already know it.”

That detail landed with quiet accuracy. I had watched my father set the safe years ago. The number was still in my head.

Dante stepped back toward the exit. “Thirty days from this morning. Not from when you decide to believe me. The men outside will confirm you received the message. After that, the choice is yours.”

“Wait.”

He stopped but didn’t turn fully.

“Why are you telling me any of this? You already control the assets.

Why not just take the house and the last warehouse and call it even?”

For the first time something like consideration crossed his face, brief and unreadable. “Because the Romanos want the full amount, not a partial recovery. And because your father left a daughter who asks better questions than most people in his position ever did. That either makes you useful or makes you a problem. I prefer something useful.”

He opened the side door. Afternoon light cut across the hallway floor.

“One more thing,” he said without looking back. “The next people who come for this debt will not knock. They will not leave a phone. They will not give you thirty days. Use the time.”

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Outside, the black sedan pulled away first. The other two vehicles stayed exactly where they were.

I stood in the quiet hallway for a long moment, then picked up the phone and the folder.

The weight of both felt deliberate. Through the window I could see one of the men in the gray sedan lift a hand to his ear, speaking to someone I couldn’t hear.

Thirty days. Thirty million. And a locked drawer I now had every reason to open.