BITTER GROUNDS

☕ Chapter 3 —DRAGGED TO THE DEN

The sun had long dipped below the skyline when Elias locked up his coffee stand. The scent of espresso still clung to his clothes, a comforting reminder of routine. He was halfway down the alley behind the stand when he heard the footsteps.

Two men emerged from the shadows — suits too sharp for the neighborhood, eyes too cold for casual business.

“Elias Cruz?” one asked, voice like gravel.

He froze. “Who’s asking?”

The second man didn’t answer. He stepped forward, grabbed Elias by the collar, and shoved him against the wall. The first man pulled out a folded paper — the same letter Elias had received that morning.

“You ignored a payment notice,” he said. “That was unwise.”

“I thought it was a scam!” Elias protested, heart pounding. “I don’t owe anyone ₦50 million!”

The men exchanged a look. Then, without another word, they dragged him toward a waiting car — a sleek black SUV with tinted windows. Elias struggled, but the grip on his arms was iron.

The door opened. Elias was shoved inside.

The ride was silent. The city blurred past, neon lights and shadows. Elias’s mind raced. Who were these people? What did they want? Was this about his father?

They pulled up to a towering building — Rossi Tower. All glass and menace. The kind of place that didn’t just house power — it radiated it.

Inside, the lobby was marble and silence. No receptionist. No security guards. Just a private elevator waiting, already open.

Elias was pushed inside. The doors closed.

Floor 47.

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open to reveal an office unlike any Elias had ever seen — minimalist, cold, and vast. At the far end, behind a desk of black stone, sat a man.

Luciano Rossi.

He didn’t look up immediately. He was stirring a cup of coffee — Elias’s blend. The scent was unmistakable.

Finally, he raised his eyes. They were sharp. Hungry.

“You’re late,” Luciano said.

Elias swallowed. “I didn’t know I had an appointment.”

Luciano stood. He was taller than Elias expected. Broader. Every movement precise, like a predator sizing up prey.

“You’ve been living off my beans. My money. My silence,” he said. “Your father made a deal. You inherited the debt.”

“I didn’t know,” Elias whispered.

Luciano stepped closer. “You do now.”

The room felt colder. Elias’s knees weakened. But somewhere beneath the fear, something else stirred — curiosity. Defiance.

Luciano noticed. He smiled.

“You’re not broken yet,” he said. “Good. I prefer my toys intact.”