Debt, Lies and Desire

ARYA'S POV The click of a switchblade was the only warning I got before I was roughly pinned against the brick wall of the alley behind my office. “Interest keeps pumping up, Thorne, and my patience is at its lowest.” The loan shark whispered, his breath smelling of cigarettes. “I… I am going to pay, I swear. Just give a few months. I promise, I will find a way.” The words came out, desperate and hollow. Even as I spoke, the truth clawed at my chest; I could live on nothing but water and air for a decade and still wouldn’t be able to pay off my mom’s debts. “If you can’t pay up, that’s fine, you will have to work for me.” He said with a mischievous grin as he ran the handle of the blade down my cheeks. I pushed him away. “That won’t be necessary,” I snapped, forcing more courage into my voice than I actually felt. He chuckled. “Then pay up.” he spat. His name was Marco, though nobody ever called him that to his face. Around the neighborhood, he was simply ‘the Collector’. And collectors never walked away empty-handed. The switchblade flicked open again. The metallic sound echoed against the damp brick walls, sending a cold shiver down my spine. “I’m not asking for the full amount tonight,” he continued, tilting his head as he studied me. “Just something to prove you’re actually willing to pay.” My pulse pounded so loudly I was certain he could hear it. “I told you I'd pay,” I said, gripping my bag tighter. “I just need time.” Marco leaned closer until his shadow swallowed me whole. “Time is something I don’t have,” he whispered. Then, without warning, he grabbed my left wrist. The blade flashed. I gasped. But instead of cutting skin, he sliced the strap of my black old watch clean off. The broken piece clattered onto the concrete. “Three days,” he said, pressing the cold metal against my throat just enough to remind me how easily it could end differently. “Three days, Arya Thorne.” My stomach twisted. Three days. I couldn’t even pay one percent of what my mother owed. “After that,” he continued softly, “I stop asking nicely, and I’ll be doing whatever I want with you.” He stepped back, folding the knife with another click before slipping it into his jacket. Just like that. As if he hadn’t just threatened my life. As if ruining people was just another Tuesday evening for him. Marco gave me one last smile before walking out of the alley. “Three days,” he repeated over his shoulder. Then he was gone. ****** I stood there for a long moment, trying to ease my breath. The city hummed around me; cars, distant music, people laughing somewhere down the street. Normal life. A life I clearly wasn’t destined to be part of. Finally, I bent down and picked up the broken watch strap from the ground. Great. Another thing I couldn’t afford to replace. I shoved it into my bag and forced my legs to move toward the street. The neon sign above my office flickered weakly. ‘THORNE ACCOUNTING SERVICES’ The sign made it sound bigger than it was. In reality, it was a tiny, rented office with secondhand furniture and a coffee machine that worked only when it felt like it. But then again, it belongs to me. Or at least it would be… if the homeowner didn’t throw me out next month. I sighed, unlocked the door and stepped inside. The familiar smell of old paper and cheap air freshener hit my face. My desk was covered with files, tax returns, expense reports, audit requests. Numbers. Numbers were the only thing in my life I could control. That’s why businesses hired me. I wasn’t just an accountant. I was a forensic accountant. If money went missing, I found it. If someone was hiding something in their books, I exposed it. Give me a spreadsheet and I can tell you exactly where every cent went. Unfortunately… I couldn’t do same for my mother’s gambling addiction. I dropped my bag onto the chair and opened my laptop. The debt spreadsheet appeared on the screen. I stared at the remaining total. My chest tightened. Three hundred and eighty-four thousand dollars. And climbing. My chest tightened as I felt tears flow down my cheeks. My mom had started with small bets years ago; lottery tickets, poker nights, harmless fun. Then casinos. Then online betting. Then borrowing. Then borrowing from the wrong people. People like Marco. I rubbed my eyes. I was a kid when most of these debts were accumulated by her, but why am I the one carrying the burden? Three days. Unless I robbed a bank or sold a kidney, there was no way out of this. My phone buzzed on the desk. Unknown number. I hesitated before answering. “Hello?” “Miss Arya Thorne.” The voice on the other end was calm. Smooth. Sophisticated. Not the kind of voice that called my office. “Yes?” “I was hoping you might be available for a private consultation tomorrow morning.” I pulled a notepad closer. “What kind of consultation?” “A financial audit.” “That depends on the size of the company,” I said automatically. “My schedule is…” “VANCE Industries,” the voice said.