Bound by his name

“Leo, did you take your medicine?” I asked the question before I even turned around. There was a pause behind me, the kind that already felt like an answer. “I think so.” My grip tightened around the plate I was washing. I closed my eyes for a second. Then I turned. Leo sat at the small table in our kitchen, his shoulders hunched and his gaze fixed on his hands. “Leo.” His eyes lifted. “I dropped it,” he admitted quietly. “I couldn't find it after.” I wanted to be frustrated. I wanted to tell him he needed to be more careful. Instead, I looked at his pale face and swallowed the words. “Okay,” I said. “I'll get another one.” The lie tasted bitter. Medicine cost money. Everything cost money. And money was the one thing we didn't have. Rain tapped against the kitchen window while water ran from the faucet. Neither sound could cover the knot in my chest, Nothing had felt normal for months. Not since my father's business collapsed. Not since the debts started piling up. Not since strange men began showing up at our door asking questions nobody wanted to answer. “Audrey.” My mother's voice drifted from the living room. Tired. Weak. I dried my hands and walked out. She sat on the old couch with an envelope in her lap. The moment I saw it, my stomach sank. I already knew. Another notice. Another warning. Another reminder that our lives were falling apart. “They came again,” she said softly. I stared at the envelope. For a moment, I couldn't make myself touch it. Then I took it from her. My fingers shook as I opened it. The words blurred together. Final Notice. Asset Recovery. Legal Action. I stopped reading, The room suddenly felt too small. Too quiet. “Audrey.” I looked up. My mother was watching me. Concern filled her eyes. “Don't do that.” “Do what?” “Pretend you're okay.” A laugh escaped me. It sounded wrong. “I am okay.” Neither of us believed it. Leo wandered into the room and sat beside her. “I don't want us to lose the house.” The words hit harder than the letter, because he wasn't talking about property. He was talking about safety. Home. The only place that still felt like ours. I crouched in front of him and forced a smile. “We're not losing anything.” His face didn't change, He knew I was lying. The worst part was that I knew it too. The rest of the day passed in a blur, I spent my shift at the café pretending everything was fine. I served drinks. Cleared tables, Smiled when customers smiled. But my mind kept drifting back to the letter sitting on our coffee table. Every time I thought about it, my chest tightened. “Audrey.” I blinked. My coworker frowned at me. “You okay?” “Just tired.” She gave me a look. Not convinced. I couldn't blame her. There was a difference between being tired and feeling like your entire life was balancing on a collapsing bridge. By the time my shift ended, my head hurt. The streets were crowded and noisy as I walked home. Rain hung in the air. Cold and Heavy. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Unknown number. I almost ignored it, Then it rang again. Something about it made me answer. “Hello?” Silence. Not static. Not a bad connection. Just silence. Then a man's voice. “Miss Audrey Bennett?” The calmness in his tone immediately put me on edge. “Yes. Who is this?” Another pause. “You don't know me,” he said. “But I know your situation.” I slowed my steps. My stomach tightened. “What situation?” “Your family's debt.” The words landed like a punch. I stopped walking. People brushed past me on the sidewalk, but suddenly none of them mattered. “Who is this?” “Sebastian Laurent.” The name meant nothing to me, At least it should have. Yet something about the way he said it made me uneasy, like he expected me to remember it. “I don't know what you want,” I said carefully. “You will.” I frowned. “What does that mean?” “It means your family is running out of time.” My heartbeat quickened. Fear crawled up my spine. “You don't know anything about my family.” “I know enough.” The certainty in his voice scared me more than anger would have. “Look,” I said, trying to stay calm, “if this is some kind of joke—” “It isn't.” His interruption was smooth. Controlled. Like he already knew exactly how this conversation would go. I hated that. I started walking again without realizing it, pacing now. “Look, Mr Laurent–” “Sebastian.” “Sebastain,” i corrected, frustrated now. “I don't know who you are, but I'm not interested–” “I can clear your family's debt.” The words froze me in place. For a second, I wondered if I'd heard him correctly. “What?” “I can make it disappear.” Nobody offered something like that. Nobody. Not without wanting something worse in return. My throat tightened. “What do you want?” There was a brief pause. Then he answered. “Marriage.” I actually laughed. A short, disbelieving laugh. “That's not funny.” “I wasn't trying to be.” The amusement vanished from my face. My pulse hammered against my ribs. “You can't be serious.” “I am.” “No.” The answer came instantly. “No. Absolutely not.” “You haven't heard the full offer.” “I don't need to.” “Audrey.” The way he said my name made me stop. Not because it was loud. Because it wasn't. His voice remained calm. Measured. Certain. Like he knew something I didn't. “How do you know my name?” “You'd be surprised how much I know.” A chill slid down my spine. That wasn't reassuring. It felt like a threat. “That's creepy.” “No,” he said. “It's necessary.” I looked around the street without meaning to. My heart pounded harder. For one irrational second, I wondered if he was nearby. Watching. Waiting. “You need help,” I muttered. A faint exhale came through the phone. Almost amusement. “Think whatever you want.” “I will.” “Good.” I hated that answer, I hated how calm he sounded. I hated how he never seemed rushed. Most of all, I hated that part of me was still listening. “Twenty-four hours.” I blinked. “What?” “You have twenty-four hours to decide.” I gripped the phone tighter. “And if I don't?” Silence stretched between us. Long enough to make my stomach twist. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. Colder. “If you refuse, your family loses everything.” The world seemed to tilt. I couldn't breathe. “You can't threaten me.” “I'm not threatening you.” His voice never changed. “I'm telling you what happens next.” My chest tightened painfully. Because deep down, I believed him. That was the terrifying part. I believed him. A car door shut somewhere on his end. The sound echoed through the line. Then he spoke again. “I'll send the details.” “Wait—” The call ended. I stood frozen on the sidewalk. People hurried past me. Nobody noticed the panic building inside my chest. My phone remained pressed against my ear long after the call ended, Then headlights swept across the street. A black car rolled to a stop on the opposite curb. Clean. Expensive. Out of place. I stared. The back window lowered just enough to reveal darkness inside. I couldn't see a face. Couldn't see who was sitting there. But I felt it. The unmistakable feeling of being watched, A shiver ran through me. And for the first time that day, I realized the debt wasn't the thing I should be afraid of. It was Sebastian Laurent.