OWNED BY HIM: The $6M collateral girl

*Genre:* Suspense, thriller, romance, death, betrayal, love, Mafia dens. --- *CHAPTER 1 - The List on the Fridge* Sofia Reyes kept her life on the back of a light bill taped to her fridge. The paper was soft from being touched too much. _Lina meds - $340 - DUE 2nd_ _Mercy Hospital - owe $52,000 - need $800 this month or they drop us_ _Leo school fees - Parkside Elementary - $150_ _Rent - 4427 S. Kedzie, 3F - $900 - DUE 3rd_ _Light - $87_ _Food - try $100_ At the bottom, in smaller writing: _HAVE: $412 in mug._ Sofia was 22. She looked 22 when she slept, which was never. When she was awake she looked older. She was 5'7, long-legged because she lived in 7-inch heels at night. Her body was not a gym body, it was a work body. Her waist was small, maybe 26 inches, cinched tight, but it flared into wide, full hips and a big, round ass that she had to train hard to lift and hold on the pole for three minutes without shaking. Her stomach was flat with a deep line down the middle and faint abs that showed when she breathed hard after a set. Her thighs were thick and powerful, with a round, pink burn scar on her left outer thigh - from when their old stove exploded when she was 16 and she threw herself in front of Leo. Her chest was 34D, natural, heavy, a little saggy from years of cheap bras that didn't fit, she strapped them down brutally for work. Her skin was warm olive, dry and ashy on her knees and elbows from cheap lotion and Chicago wind, with thin silver stretch marks on the sides of her hips. Her face is what made men at SIN forget how much money they had. Heart-shaped, high cheekbones that caught shadow. Eyes large, almond-shaped, dark brown so dark they looked black in low light, always a little wet, always tired, with long natural lashes. Nose small, straight, with a soft little slope at the tip - her mother said she got it from her grandmother from Oaxaca. Lips full, bottom lip bigger than top, always chewed raw because she bit them when nervous. Hair black, thick, wavy, heavy, past her shoulder blades, usually in a messy bun at home because she didn't have time to brush it. She lived in a rundown apartment at 4427 South Kedzie Avenue, Chicago, South Side. Third floor walkup, no elevator. The building was brown brick, 1960s, hallway smelling like piss and fried onions, lights buzzing. Paint peeling off walls inside. Faucet leaked into a blue Home Depot bucket 24/7. Fridge hummed like it was dying. One bedroom - that was Lina's, because the doctor said she needed a real bed. Living room was Leo and Sofia. Leo, 10, skinny, big front teeth, obsessed with dinosaurs and math, got the couch with a blanket with dinosaurs on it. Sofia got a thin mattress on the floor behind a flower curtain she bought at Goodwill for $5. Lina Reyes was 48 but looked 65. Once beautiful, same eyes as Sofia. Now swollen, breathless, tired all the time. Dilated cardiomyopathy, diagnosed when Sofia was 17. Heart too big, too weak. She couldn't work. Couldn't climb three flights without stopping twice, holding the railing, gasping. Needed surgery, but Mercy Hospital said: pay $52,000 of old bills first. Leo thought Sofia was a waitress. She told him she worked at a restaurant called SIN. Not a lie. SIN served food. Their father, Daniel Reyes, left when Sofia was 12. The story Lina told everyone: he stole her emergency money - $4,000 saved cleaning houses for 3 years, hidden in a yellow envelope under the mattress - to play poker in Cicero and vanished. Sofia believed it for 10 years. Started catering for herself at 17 when Lina got sick - cooking rice and beans to last 4 days, forging signatures, lying to landlord. That story was the twist. It wasn't $4,000. SIN. SIN was not a strip club. SIN was a Mafia den with a liquor license. Six branches worldwide: Chicago, Miami, New York, Madrid, Barcelona, Malaga. From outside, nothing. Black steel door, no sign, just a single red neon word buzzing: SIN. Inside Chicago branch on West Division Street: black marble floors that reflected red lights, black velvet booths with curtains you could pull for privacy, cold air on purpose, bar with whiskey that cost $400 a glass, a round stage in the center with one chrome pole under one red spotlight. No phones allowed. No touching dancers. Ever. Rule enforced by Tank, 6'6 ex-Marine bouncer. At SIN, men didn't throw ones. They sent black envelopes - each minimum $500. SIN was owned by Matteo Rivas, 33, Spanish Mafia boss from Malaga. Matteo was Mafia, same as his best friend and cousin Adrian. Matteo owned all six SIN branches but he had NEVER stepped foot in the Chicago branch in 6 years. He hated Chicago cold. He hired a manager, Carla Dominguez, 40, Dominican, sharp red nails, sharp tongue, to run Chicago for him. Carla protected her girls like a mother lion but would ban a billionaire for life if he touched them. Adrian Rivas owned something bigger. He owned Rivas Holdings - a conglomerate. Shipping yards at the Chicago docks, hotels in Miami, construction companies, and SIN. He was 31, 6'3, black hair pushed back, gray eyes, scar through left eyebrow, suits that cost more than Sofia's yearly rent. He was ruthless. Not loud ruthless. Quiet ruthless. The kind of man his own men didn't look in the eye. He spoke English everywhere, but when he was with his parents or talking business about the conglomerate, he switched to Spanish and Italian. His mother was Spanish, father Italian. _When he is angry, he says in Spanish: "No me jodas" - Don't f**k with me._ _When he is closing a business deal, he says: "Cerrado" - Closed._ Sofia had never met him. Never seen him. She worked at SIN Chicago as Starlight, top earner, because SIN paid $2,000-$5,000 a night, cash. Every dollar went to Lina meds, hospital bills, Leo fees, rent, food, light. She had a best friend. Jada Cole, 24, 5'10, Black, shaved sides with pink curls on top, full of tattoos of snakes and flowers, legs for days. Met Sofia at 20 when Sofia threw up before her first audition at SIN because Lina's meds ran out. Jada held her hair and said, "We are sisters now. Rule one: they look, they don't touch. Rule two: we stick together." Jada was the only person who knew where Sofia really lived. She had a boyfriend. Diego Alvarez, 26, auto shop on 51st, nice smile, oily hands. Together 8 months. For now, he was good. He brought Lina pan dulce on Sundays, taught Leo to fix his bike chain, told Sofia, "You are strong, not dirty." Jada didn't fully trust him but tolerated him because Sofia smiled more. It was Tuesday, Sofia's day off. She woke at 6 a.m., made rice and boiled egg for Lina, counted pills, walked Leo to Parkside Elementary. At 2 p.m., Lina was napping when Sofia cleaned under Lina's bed and found an old Bible, swollen shut. Inside, a folded yellow paper, old, stuck to the pages. Sofia opened it. It was a loan document. RIVAS HOLDINGS - CONGLOMERATE. In English and Spanish. Borrower: Daniel Reyes Amount: $6,000,000 - Six Million Dollars Collateral: Minor daughter - Sofia Reyes DOB 06/14/2004 - plus family property Date: 2014 - when Sofia was 12. Signature: Daniel Reyes At the bottom, red stamp in Spanish: _LA DEUDA DEL PADRE LA PAGA LA HIJA._ Translation: _The father's debt is paid by the daughter._ Sofia couldn't read Spanish. She could read $6,000,000. Her hands went cold. The paper shook. "Mama?" she whispered. Lina woke, saw the paper, and her face went white. White as death. "Donde encontraste eso? Where did you find that?" Lina whispered, but Sofia didn't understand the Spanish. Lina grabbed it, crying. "Mama, what is this? What is six million? You said he stole four thousand!" Lina sobbed, in English now: "I lied! He didn't steal four thousand! He borrowed six million from Spanish men! Bad men! He used your birth certificate! I thought they would never find us! I told him to burn it!" Sofia sat on the cold floor, holding the paper, her whole body shaking. Across the city, in a glass office on the 47th floor of Rivas Holdings Tower on Wacker Drive, Adrian Rivas was in a meeting, speaking Spanish on the phone with his father in Malaga about business. Adrian, in Spanish: _"Sí, papá, el puerto de Chicago está cerrado para los otros. Ya está hecho. The Chicago port is closed for the others. It's done."_ His assistant knocked, handed him a file. Matteo Rivas on speaker, also in Spanish: _"Adrian, encontramos el archivo de Daniel Reyes. We found Daniel Reyes' file. Debe seis millones. Owes six million. Con interés, nueve. With interest, nine. Tenía una hija. He had a daughter. Baila en SIN Chicago, la sucursal que nunca visito. She dances in SIN Chicago, the branch I never visit."_ Adrian opened the file. A photo. Sofia on stage at SIN, red light, eyes dark, hips wide, face tired but beautiful. Date taken: last week. Adrian stared at it for a long time. Quiet. Then in English, cold: "Prepare the Chicago branch. I'm visiting for the first time in six years." Matteo, in Spanish: _"¿Cuándo? When?"_ Adrian, in Spanish, low: _"En siete noches. In seven nights. Y voy a cobrar la deuda del padre. And I'm going to collect the father's debt."_ He closed the file. Sofia Reyes. TBC ---;---- Like and comment 💖💞 A.A