Chapter 1: The Midnight Call
The relentless New York City rain lashed against the small windowpane, each drop a percussive reminder of Amara’s mounting despair. Her phone, a cheap model she’d bought two years ago, buzzed violently on the chipped nightstand. Midnight. Who would call her at midnight?
A shiver, not from the cold, snaked down her spine. Her brother, Aryan, was usually asleep by now, exhausted from his double shifts. But the caller ID flashed his name, accompanied by a string of missed calls. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage.
“Aryan? What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice a thin whisper of dread as she picked up.
On the other end, his breath hitched. “Amara… it’s Dad. He collapsed. They’ve taken him to St. Jude’s.”
The world tilted. St. Jude’s. The most expensive hospital in the city, renowned for its specialists and crippling bills. Amara’s vision blurred, the small, cramped apartment walls closing in on her. Her father, the steady, unwavering anchor of their struggling family, had been complaining of chest pain for weeks, but they had dismissed it as stress, as indigestion. Always indigestion, because a doctor's visit was a luxury they couldn't afford.
“Which room? I’m coming.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, an edge of panic she couldn't suppress. She was already fumbling for her worn jeans and a faded hoodie, her fingers trembling so badly she could barely button them.
“No, Amara, wait,” Aryan's voice cracked, thick with unshed tears. “The doctors… they’re saying it’s serious. A major cardiac event. They need to operate immediately. The cost… Amara, it’s astronomical. We don’t have it.”
Her blood ran cold. Astronomical. That one word painted a stark picture of everything they lacked. Their savings, depleted by medical emergencies and the never-ending struggle to keep their small, family-owned restaurant afloat, were practically non-existent.
“How much?” she asked, the question a desperate plea to the universe.
There was a pause, heavy and suffocating. “They need a down payment of… of fifty thousand dollars by dawn. Or they won’t operate.”
Fifty thousand dollars. By dawn. The words echoed in the tiny apartment, mocking her. It was an impossible sum, a cruel joke played by fate. Amara sank onto the edge of her bed, her legs suddenly weak. Her gaze fell on a framed photograph on her nightstand – her father, smiling broadly, his arm around her mother. A memory from a time when laughter was easy, and hope wasn't a luxury.
Now, hope felt like a fading ember.
She remembered the email she’d received that morning, tucked away in her spam folder. An interview invitation for an executive assistant position. The pay had been astronomical, almost suspiciously so. At a company run by Sebastian Hunt. She’d dismissed it as too good to be true, a scam.
But now, looking at the rain-streaked window, hearing her brother’s muffled sobs, Amara knew she had no choice. She had to try. For her father. For her family. Even if it meant stepping into the lair of a man rumored to be as ruthless as he was rich.
Dawn was just a few hours away. And fifty thousand dollars was standing between her father and the promise of another day.
