The Return of the Hidden Luna

CHAPTER 5: THE BETRAYAL

Ariella's POV

I turned on my heel, hoping to escape before anyone noticed me, but I wasn’t as fast as I thought. One of the thugs, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, grabbed my arm and dragged me back into the room. His grip was tight like iron, fingers digging painfully into my skin, and I winced at the sudden onslaught of pain.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled, his voice resembling the low rumble of thunder. His eyes bore into me, filled with an unsettling intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. Panic surged through me, but I steeled myself to appear composed.

"Let me go," I forced out, willing my voice not to tremble. Despite my efforts, fear crept into my words, revealing my inner turmoil. "I don't want any trouble," I said.

The man’s laughter cut through the air like a jagged blade, its harshness amplifying the tension. "Trouble found you, girl," he taunted, his narrowed eyes dissecting me with a predatory gaze.

He dragged me further into the room where a man who appeared to be their boss was lounging on an elegant sofa, a confident smirk playing across his lips. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, he presented a sharp contrast to the intimidating thugs who flanked him. Every aspect of his appearance exuded opulence and authority. However, his icy, calculating gaze was unsettling.

"So, this is the girl," he said, his voice smooth and menacing. "Ariella, is it?" I nodded, my throat dry. "Yes, that’s me."

He leaned back, studying me with a predatory look. "Your stepfather owes me a lot of money, Ariella. Over a million dollars, to be precise. And he has nothing to offer but you."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“I have nothing to do with his debt,” I told the creditor, who looked like the boss of a criminal underworld. “You can do whatever you want to him.”

I turned to my stepfather, disbelief and anger surging through me. "You owe him a million dollars? How could you do this?" I shouted. 

My stepfather's eyes flashed with anger, not a hint of shame in them. He squared his shoulders, glaring at me with frustration and defiance. "I did what I had to do, Ariella.”

“Ridiculous,” I shot back. “You gambled away all the money and even stole what I earned from working. I’m not paying for your mistakes.”

“You're just ungrateful. You could solve all our problems, but instead, you're being difficult." His words hung in the air, heavy with bitterness.

“Ungrateful?” I shouted, my voice rising in anger. “You sold me to pay off your gambling debts, and you call me ungrateful?”

“Yes, ungrateful,” he snapped. “I’ve raised you, haven’t I? Fed you, clothed you? And now it’s your turn to help this family.”

“This isn’t helping,” I shouted back, my fury boiling over. “This is betrayal! You’re ruining my life to save your own skin.”

He sneered, his face contorted with anger. “You’ve always been a burden. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have had to borrow so much money in the first place. All you ever do is cost me money. It’s about time you paid me back.”

His words cut deep, the betrayal stinging worse than any physical blow. “I’m not your property to sell,” I told him. “I won’t let you do this to me.”

I turned to the creditor, hoping for some clarity. "How did my stepfather accumulate that amount of money?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself," the creditor replied, a smirk playing on his lips.

I glared at my stepfather. “How did you manage to owe over a million dollars?” I demanded, my voice sharp with accusation.

My stepfather’s face twisted with irritation. “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” I repeated, incredulous. “You sold me to pay it off, so yes, it is my business.”

He gave me a piercing stare, but I refused to yield. Eventually, he let out a resigned sigh and began to speak. "It started with small wagers, just a few here and there. But as I kept losing, I borrowed more money to try and win it back. The debts piled up, and the interest made it worse."

"So, you kept seeking more loans," I interjected, feeling a sense of revulsion. "Until eventually, it became impossible for you to repay them."

“Yeah, and then I met him,” he nodded toward the creditor. “He offered to consolidate my debts, give me a chance to pay it all back in one go. But the interest was high, and I couldn’t keep up. It snowballed out of control.”

“And now you expect me to fix it,” I said bitterly. “After everything you’ve done.” He looked away, unable to meet my gaze. “It was the only way.”

I couldn’t believe the depth of his betrayal. Every word he said added to my pain. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. I had to focus on getting out of this mess.

The creditor raised a hand, silencing our argument. His presence was commanding, and even my stepfather shut his mouth. “Your mother and stepfather sold you to me as compensation for their debts. Given your pretty face, I’m willing to accept the deal.”

I glanced at Jennifer, hoping for some sign that this wasn’t true, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You sold me?” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Jennifer looked down, tears welling up in her eyes. “We had no choice, Ariella,” she murmured. “We were desperate.”

“No choice?” I repeated, my voice rising in anger. “You sold your own daughter, and you say you had no choice?”

Thinking about what Francis told me about Jennifer not being my real mother, I had to know the truth. With tears in my eyes, I finally asked, “How could you let this happen?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “How could you let him sell me like this?”

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t answer. But I needed answers. “Is what I heard true?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “That you’re not my real mother?”

Jennifer flinched as if I had struck her. "Where did you hear that?" she asked, her face pale.

"I asked a question that needs an answer," I said, my voice trembling. Her silence spoke volumes.

“So it’s true,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “You’re not my mother. That’s why you could do this to me.”

The creditor held up a hand, silencing our argument. “Enough. Ariella, your stepfather’s decisions have left you in this position. But I’m a reasonable man. If you can come up with the money, I’ll let you go.”

A spark of hope flared within me, but it was quickly extinguished. Where could I possibly get that kind of money?

Desperation clawed at me as I racked my brain for other solutions. “What if I work for you?” I proposed, trying to buy myself some time.

“I could take on any job you have, no matter how difficult. I’ll do whatever it takes to pay off my stepfather’s debt.”

The creditor’s eyes glinted with amusement, but he shook his head. “It would take you a lifetime to pay off that kind of money, girl. I’m not interested in waiting that long.”

“What about installments?” I suggested, grasping at straws. “I could make regular payments. I can work multiple jobs, anything you need. Just don’t take me away.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Do you honestly think you can pay off a million dollars with part-time jobs? Be realistic.”

I felt my options slipping away. My mind raced, searching for another way out. “What if I sell everything I own? I can liquidate all I have and get the money to you as soon as possible.”

The creditor chuckled darkly. “And what assets do you have that are worth a million dollars? Your stepfather’s already gambled away everything of value.”

My shoulders sagged under the weight of my hopelessness. Every idea I had was shot down instantly.

The creditor then gestured to another one of his men, a wiry fellow with sharp eyes. “Check the house again,” he ordered. “Make sure we didn’t miss anything valuable.”

The man nodded and quickly disappeared down the hallway, rummaging through drawers and cabinets. The minutes felt like hours as I stood there, surrounded by the thugs' oppressive presence. My stepfather and Jennifer avoided looking at me, their silence deepening the rift between us.

Finally, the wiry man returned, shaking his head. “Nothing valuable left. They’ve already pawned everything of worth.”

The creditor sighed, turning his icy gaze back to me. “Well, Ariella, it seems you will have to come with us.”

The creditor waved to his thugs, and they rushed forward, grabbing me roughly. They began tying me up with a rope. I struggled against them, thrashing and kicking, but they were too strong.

Then I remembered Francis Silvester, the mysterious man who had recently appeared in my life. His business card was still in my pocket.

"Wait! I have a friend,” I blurted out, desperation coloring my voice. “He’s wealthy. If you let me make a phone call, he can pay the debt.”

The creditor raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A friend? This better not be a trick,” he said.

“It’s not,” I insisted. “Just let me call him.”

The thugs exchanged dubious looks, and one of them, a lanky man with a tattoo snaking up his neck, voiced their collective suspicion. “How do we know you’re not going to call the cops? This could all be a setup.”

I shook my head vigorously. “It’s not a trick. I promise. I just need to reach him.”

The creditor studied me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. “And why should I believe you, girl? What’s to stop you from calling the police when we hand you the phone?”

“Please,” I begged, my voice trembling. “Francis can pay you. He’s my only hope. Just let me call him.”

The creditor considered this, his eyes flicking to his men. “Pat her down,” he ordered. “Make sure she has no other phones or weapons on her.”

"If I had any of those, I would have used them earlier," I snapped.

The thug with the scar roughly patted me down, searching my pockets and every fold of my clothing. Finding only the business card Francis gave me, he stepped back and nodded to the creditor.

“Fine,” the creditor said, nodding to the thug holding the business card. “But know this, Ariella. There will be consequences if you try anything, anything at all.”

With a wary glance at the creditor, the thug dialed the number and handed me the phone.

I took a deep breath, praying that Francis would answer. The phone rang once, twice, and then I heard his magnetic, calm voice. “This is Francis Silvester. How can I help you?”