Chapter 4- The Breaking Point
1188 Words
I stood in the doorway of the hospital room, staring blankly at the bill in my hands.
The numbers seemed to swim before my eyes, incomprehensible. There was no way. Not even in my wildest dreams. My father lay in the bed behind me, tubes running into his arms, his frail body barely clinging to life. It should have been me lying there, except I didn’t have the luxury of collapsing.
I was too busy holding everything together by a thread.
Six months. That’s how long I had, if I even had that much.
But now… the hospital bill made it clear that I wouldn’t even get the chance to fight for those six months. Not unless I figured out a way to pay. And there was no money. None. I couldn’t even afford my own treatments, let alone the ones for my father.
I crumpled the paper in my hands, trying to push down the anger threatening to explode. My father shifted on the bed, his eyes fluttering open, weak and dazed.
He saw the bill in my hand and let out a quiet groan.
“Si-Sienna…” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry…”
My hands clenched tighter around the paper. I was so f*****g tired of hearing those words.
Sorry.
What did “sorry” fix?
Nothing.
It didn’t fix the fact that we were drowning, that he had dragged me down with him, into a mess I never asked for.
“You’re sorry?” I spat, the anger bubbling over despite my best efforts to control it. “That’s all you have to say? You’re sorry? For what? For ruining us? For making me give up my life to clean up your s**t? For making me drop out of school while you gamble our life away? You better shove that sorry up your arse.”
He flinched, his eyes widening, but I couldn’t stop. The words kept pouring out, hot and furious, like poison.
“I’m already dying, Dad! I already have cancer, and now, because of you, I can’t even take care of myself! I’m dancing on a pole to pay for your mistakes! And what? Now I’m supposed to fix this too?” My voice broke.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Oh enough of that nonsense,” I cut him off, my hands shaking violently. “You gambled everything we had. You lost everything, and now you owe half a million f*****g dollars to the mafia. How the f**k am I supposed to fix that?”
He groaned, trying to sit up, but he was too weak, his body collapsing back into the bed. “I thought… I thought I could win it back…”
“Well, guess what?” I snapped. “You didn’t. You didn’t win anything, and now we’re f****d. I can’t even afford to keep you in this hospital.”
The room went silent. The only sound was the soft beep of the machines keeping him alive. I could barely breathe, the weight of everything pressing down on me, suffocating me. I had nothing left to give. I was completely drained, physically and emotionally.
“Dante… he came here…” My father’s voice was a weak croak, his eyes flickering with fear. “He… he’ll come back.”
“I know,” I muttered, pacing in the small space between the bed and the door. The memory of Dante standing in our apartment, his cold eyes locked on mine, made my stomach twist. He had given me time to think, but the clock was ticking. His offer was clear: You work for me, or your father dies.
There was no way out of this.
“I can’t let them… take you, Sienna.” His voice was barely a whisper, thick with regret.
I stopped and stared at him, my jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth might shatter. “Do you think I have a choice?” I asked, my voice raw. “What am I supposed to do? Let you die? Let them come after Mom next? You put me in this position.”
“I never wanted this…” he whispered, tears glistening in his eyes. “I never wanted you to be dragged into this.”
“Well, you did!” The words exploded out of me, and I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “You f*****g did, Dad! And now… now I have to fix it.”
I wiped the tears from my face, turning away from him. There was nothing more to say. I couldn’t keep going in circles, and we were running out of time. The doctors had made it clear: if we didn’t pay soon, they’d kick him out.
I’d seen the pity in their eyes when I told them we didn’t have insurance.
I glanced at my phone, the screen cracked, the battery barely holding on. There was one number I hadn’t called. Dante’s number. The thought of it made me sick, but what choice did I have?
“I’ll fix it,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you.”
---
It wasn’t until hours later, after my father had fallen asleep again, that I finally worked up the nerve to pull the phone from my pocket. Dante’s business card sat on the table beside me, the elegant script practically mocking me.
Dante Marino.
A man with a face as handsome as the devil. The men at the club feared him, and I understood why now. He didn’t just own Novalon’s criminal underworld, he was the underworld.
I took a deep breath, my fingers hovering over the phone.
I didn’t want to do this.
Every fiber of my being screamed at me to run, to find another way. But there was no other way. My father was dying, my mother was sick, and I was… well, I was on borrowed time, too.
I punched in the number, my heart racing as the phone rang. It clicked almost immediately.
“Miss Rojas.” Dante’s voice was smooth, dangerously calm. “I was wondering when you’d call.”
I swallowed, my throat tight. “I… I’ve thought about your offer.”
Silence.
“And?” Dante’s voice was cold, with just a hint of amusement, as if he already knew my answer.
“I’ll do it,” I whispered, forcing the words out. “I’ll work for you.”
There was a brief pause, and then Dante’s deep, measured voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Good girl. I’ll send a car.”
I could hear the smirk in his voice, the satisfaction of a predator who had just snared his prey. He didn’t need to say anything else.
He’d won, and we both knew it.
I hung up the phone and sat there in the dim hospital room, staring at the cold, sterile walls. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice.
I had just sold myself to the devil, and there was no turning back.
- Writer
