Chapter 1 – The Debt
Chapter 1 – The Debt
Rain fell in a steady rhythm, casting a gray veil over the crumbling rooftops of the city. Eliza Marin pulled her thin coat tighter around her body as she hurried down the cracked sidewalk. The cold seeped into her bones, but it wasn’t just the weather that made her shiver. It was the weight of the unknown.
She pushed open the glass door to the neighborhood clinic. The scent of antiseptic hit her immediately—sterile, cold, and familiar. The receptionist gave her a tight smile and nodded toward the hallway.
“Dr. Balan’s waiting for you.”
Eliza nodded silently, her heart pounding. Every step toward that office felt heavier than the last. She paused at the door, breathed in deeply, then knocked.
“Come in,” came the voice from within.
Dr. Balan stood up from behind his desk, his face unusually serious. That alone made her stomach twist. He’d always been kind, even fatherly, but today his eyes were full of something else—regret.
“Eliza. Please, sit down.”
She obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair like a bird ready to flee. “Is it my grandmother? Is she worse?”
The doctor hesitated, and that was all the answer she needed.
“She needs surgery,” he said finally. “Soon. Her heart is deteriorating faster than expected.”
Eliza’s fingers curled into fists in her lap. “How soon?”
“Within two weeks, preferably sooner.”
She nodded slowly, already calculating in her mind. Bills. Rent. Food. And now surgery.
“How much?” she asked.
Dr. Balan sighed. “With the procedure, medication, post-care… around $30,000.”
It may as well have been three million.
“I’m sorry, Eliza. I wish I had better news.”
She left the clinic in a daze, her mind blank except for that number echoing in her head. $30,000. She had maybe three hundred in her bank account. No job would pay her that fast. No legal job, anyway.
She walked for hours, ignoring the rain, ignoring the cold, until her feet led her back to the tiny apartment she shared with her grandmother. The lights were off. Nana was sleeping. Eliza stared at the ceiling for a long time, unable to close her eyes.
By morning, she had made up her mind.
---
The next day, she stood outside a tall black gate, heart racing. She had never been to this part of the city—the part where rumors whispered of old money and new crime. The name “Morelli” was painted in bold silver on the gate’s plaque. A name both feared and respected in whispers across the city.
Eliza hesitated. This was a stupid idea. Dangerous. Insane.
But she pressed the buzzer anyway.
A moment later, the intercom crackled. “Name?”
“Eliza Marin. I… I need to speak to Damian Morelli.”
There was a pause. Then, “Wait.”
The gate opened with a heavy groan, revealing a long stone driveway and a mansion that looked more like a fortress. Cameras followed her every step as she approached the front door.
It opened before she could knock.
A man in his early 30s stood in the doorway, dressed in black, sharp features carved like stone. Damian Morelli. The man at the center of half the city’s darkest stories.
“Eliza Marin,” he said, his voice smooth, unreadable. “Come in.”
She stepped inside. The air smelled of leather and spice, and the walls were lined with expensive art she didn’t recognize. Everything here felt like a different world.
“I know who you are,” he said, motioning toward the sitting room. “Your father owed my family a lot of money. He disappeared. We didn’t forget.”
“I’m not here about my father,” she said quickly. “I need your help.”
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“My grandmother—she’s dying. I need $30,000 for surgery. I’ll pay it back. I’ll work for you. Clean. Cook. Run errands. Anything.”
Damian stared at her for a long time, his expression unreadable.
“You’d work for a man like me? Even knowing what I do?”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I just want to save her.”
He stood and walked toward her slowly. “And what would you offer in return for that money, Eliza? Cooking and cleaning won’t cover it.”
She swallowed hard. “Then name your price.”
Silence.
Then a smile, slow and dangerous. “I have a proposition.”
She tensed.
“A contract. Six months. You’ll live here. Be my fiancée. Pretend, at first. But the world will think it’s real. You’ll attend events with me, follow my rules, stay by my side.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
He turned away, poured himself a drink. “Because enemies respect a man with something to lose. And I need a shield right now.”
She hesitated. “And in exchange, you’ll pay for the surgery?”
“Yes. Full medical coverage, plus ten thousand extra in your account when the six months are over.”
Eliza’s breath caught.
“It’s not slavery,” he added. “You’ll be free to walk away after six months. But while you’re here, you’re mine. In every way that matters.”
Her heart thundered.
Damian stepped closer, looking into her eyes. “Do we have a deal?”
She looked down at her hands, trembling. Then thought of Nana. Of the hospital bed. The oxygen tubes. The smile that hadn’t been seen in weeks.
She met his eyes.
“Yes. We have a deal.”
