The Debt

~ Mara ~ The last of the mourners left twenty minutes ago, but I couldn't make myself move. The grave was still open. They wouldn't fill it until we left, that's what the funeral director told me, and I kept thinking about my father lying down there in that cheap coffin while I stood up here in a dress I bought at a thrift store three years ago because I couldn't afford anything new for my own father's funeral. Ethan stood beside me, his shoulder almost touching mine. He hadn't cried all day and I didn't know if that was strength or shock or something else I should be worried about. Seventeen years old and he'd already buried both parents. Our mother two years ago, slow and painful, watching her waste away in a hospital bed while the treatments we couldn't afford failed to save her. Our father three days ago, quick and sudden, his heart giving out in the middle of the night while I was working the late shift at the bar. "Mara." The voice came from behind me, low and calm, and I turned around expecting to see the funeral director telling us it was time to go. It wasn't the funeral director. The man standing ten feet away wore a suit that cost more than six months of my rent. Dark hair, dark eyes, a face I recognized from magazine covers and newspaper articles. Julian Vesper. Billionaire. CEO of Vesper Holdings. The kind of man who owned buildings and politicians and people. I had never met him in person, but I knew who he was, and the fact that he was standing in this cemetery on the day of my father's funeral made something cold settle in my stomach. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, but his voice didn't sound sorry at all. "Do I know you?" "No. But your father did." Ethan shifted beside me, and I could feel him tensing, picking up on the fact that something was wrong even if he didn't understand what. "Whatever business you had with my father, it's over," I said. "He's dead. There's nothing left to discuss." "Actually, there's quite a lot to discuss." Julian took a step closer, and I noticed two men in dark suits standing about twenty feet behind him, watching, waiting. "Your father borrowed two million dollars from me. Plus twenty-six months of interest at twenty percent. The current balance is approximately three point four million, and as of today, that debt belongs to you." The number hit me like something physical. Three point four million dollars. I made eleven dollars an hour at the diner and fourteen plus tips at the bar. I worked seventy hours a week and still couldn't cover rent some months. Three point four million might as well have been three point four billion. "That's impossible," I said. "I don't have that kind of money. I don't have any money." "I'm aware of your financial situation, Miss Sinclair." He said it like he was reading from a file, like my entire life was just a collection of facts he had memorized before coming here. "You have thirty days to pay the balance in full. If you fail to do so, I will seize whatever assets your family possesses, including the apartment you currently occupy." "The apartment isn't worth anything close to three million dollars." "No, it isn't. Which means I'll have to collect the remainder through other means." His eyes moved to Ethan, just for a second, and my blood went cold. "Your brother is seventeen. A minor. Without a legal guardian who can provide stable housing and income, he becomes a ward of the state. Foster care, group homes, the system." "You can't do that," I said, and my voice cracked on the words. "He's my brother." "I'm not taking anyone. The state will take him when you can no longer provide for him. Thirty days, Miss Sinclair. I suggest you use them wisely." He turned and started walking toward the black car waiting at the edge of the cemetery, his bodyguards falling into step behind him, and something inside me snapped. "Wait." He didn't stop. "Please, wait." I was moving before I realized what I was doing, my heels sinking into the soft grass. I caught up to him just before he reached the car and grabbed his arm, my fingers closing around the fabric of his suit jacket. He stopped. Looked down at my hand on his arm, then looked up at my face. "Please," I said, and I hated how desperate I sounded, but I didn't have a choice. "My father just died. I buried him an hour ago. I need more time, please, I'll figure something out, I'll find a way to pay you back, but I can't do it in thirty days. No one could." Julian stared at me, his expression unchanged. His eyes moved over my face like he was calculating something, deciding whether I was worth his time. "I'll do anything," I said. "Whatever it takes. Just give me more time." The silence stretched between us. Then something shifted in his face, something that almost looked like a smile but wasn't, something darker. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card. White, expensive-looking, with an address printed on it in black letters. "Tonight," he said. "Nine o'clock. Come alone." I took the card. My hands were shaking. "What happens at nine o'clock?" "We discuss your options." He opened the car door and paused. "Don't be late, Miss Sinclair. I don't give second chances." He got in. The door closed. The black car pulled away, leaving me standing in the cemetery parking lot with a card in my hand and no idea what I had just agreed to. My legs gave out. I dropped to my knees on the gravel, my dress spreading around me, the card still clutched in my fingers. The address blurred as tears filled my eyes and I finally let myself cry. Footsteps behind me. Ethan's hand on my shoulder, gentle and trembling. "You're not going." I wiped my face and made myself stand up. My brother was pale, his jaw tight, his eyes wet with tears he was trying not to let fall. "Ethan." "I heard what he said, Mara. All of it. Thirty days, foster care, that address." His voice cracked. "You're not going to meet that man alone." "I know exactly what he wants. He wants his money." "Then we'll find another way. We'll sell the apartment, we'll get loans, but you're not going to that address like you're offering yourself up to him." "The apartment isn't worth anything close to what we owe, and no bank is going to give us a loan." "So what, you're just going to do whatever he asks?" I pulled him into a hug before he could say anything else, holding him tight, feeling his shoulders shake. "Listen to me," I said quietly. "I don't know what he wants or what he's going to ask me to do. But I'm not going to let anyone take you away from me. You're my brother. You're all I have left." Ethan pulled back and looked at me, his face wet. "Promise me you'll be careful." "I promise." Over his shoulder, I watched the gravediggers move toward my father's grave with their shovels. The sun was starting to set, and somewhere in the city Julian Vesper was waiting for me. I looked down at the card in my hand. Nine o'clock. Come alone. For Ethan, I would do anything. Anything.