The Debt

Chapter 2 – The Address

~ Mara ~

The cab dropped me off at the corner of 58th and Park at exactly 8:47 PM.

I paid the driver with the last twenty dollars in my wallet and stood on the sidewalk staring up at the building in front of me. It was one of those old pre-war towers that rich people loved, all stone and brass and doormen in white gloves. The kind of place where a single apartment probably cost more than I would make in ten lifetimes.

The card in my hand said penthouse. Of course it did.

Ethan had tried to stop me from leaving. He stood in front of the door with his arms crossed, telling me I was making a mistake, telling me we would figure something else out. I had to promise him three more times that I would be careful before he finally moved. The look on his face when I walked out stayed with me the whole cab ride, this mixture of fear and anger and helplessness that made my chest ache.

The doorman looked at me like I didn't belong, which was fair because I didn't. I showed him the card and he made a phone call, speaking too quietly for me to hear, and then he nodded and led me to a private elevator at the back of the lobby.

"Penthouse," he said, pressing a button. "Mr. Vesper is expecting you."

The doors closed and I was alone.

The elevator was mirrored on all sides and I caught a glimpse of myself as it started to rise. I looked tired, my eyes red from crying, my hair coming loose from the pins I had used to hold it back. I was still wearing the funeral dress because it was the nicest thing I owned.

The elevator stopped. The doors opened.

Julian Vesper's penthouse looked like something out of a magazine. High ceilings, dark furniture, massive windows that showed the entire city spread out below. Everything was expensive and tasteful and cold, just like the man who owned it.

He was standing by the windows with his back to me, a glass of something amber in his hand.

"You're early," he said without turning around.

"You told me not to be late."

"I did." He turned then, and his eyes moved over me slowly, deliberately, in a way that made my skin prickle. "Sit down."

I didn't want to sit because sitting felt like surrendering, but my legs were shaking and I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. I walked to the leather sofa and sat on the edge, keeping my back straight.

Julian remained standing.

"Your father came to me two years ago," he said. "Your mother was dying and he needed money for her treatment. Experimental therapies, specialists, the best care money could buy. He didn't have the resources, so he came to me."

"We were making payments to an agency. They never mentioned your name."

"The payments went through intermediaries. That's how I prefer to operate." He took a sip of his drink. "But I've been watching you, Mara. Eighteen months of payments without missing a single one. Double shifts at the diner and the bar, seventy hours a week, and you never fell behind. That takes discipline."

The fact that he had been tracking my payments and knowing my schedule made my stomach turn.

"What's your point?"

"My point is that you're not your father. You're responsible, you're hardworking, and you understand the value of keeping your commitments." He set his glass down and walked toward me, stopping a few feet away. "I don't want your money, Mara. I want your time."

"What does that mean?"

"Five years of service as my personal assistant. You'll work for me directly, at my side from early morning until I dismiss you each night. You'll live in housing I provide near my office, you'll be available whenever I need you, and you'll do whatever I ask without question."

My mouth went dry. "Whatever you ask?"

"Whatever I ask." His eyes held mine, dark and steady. "In exchange, the debt disappears. All three point four million. Your brother keeps the apartment, stays in school, receives a monthly allowance to cover his expenses. At the end of five years, you walk away free."

A man like Julian Vesper didn't need a personal assistant badly enough to forgive three point four million dollars for one. He wanted something else, something he wasn't saying out loud, and agreeing to this meant agreeing to that too.

"Ethan stays safe," I said. "He keeps the apartment, he stays in school, nothing happens to him."

"Correct."

"And after five years, I'm free. Completely. No extensions, no changes, no excuses to keep me longer."

"Five years and you're free. Everything will be in the contract."

My brother's face flashed through my mind, pale and scared, begging me not to go. My mother in those final weeks, thin and hopeful because she believed the treatments would save her. My father's grave, the dirt still loose on top.

"Fine," I said. "I'll do it."

Julian reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded document. He had it ready before I even arrived, prepared in advance because he knew I would come and he knew I would say yes. A man like him didn't leave things to chance.

"Sign here."

I took the pen and signed my name at the bottom without reading the fine print. The decision was already made.

Julian took the contract and tucked it into his jacket.

"A car will pick you up tomorrow morning at seven," he said. "Pack whatever you need."

"That's it?"

"That's it." He picked up his glass and turned back toward the windows. "Goodnight, Mara. I'll see you tomorrow."

I stood up and walked to the elevator on unsteady legs. The doors opened and I stepped inside, and Julian was still facing the windows with his back to me, like I had already been dismissed.

The doors closed.

I leaned against the mirrored wall and let myself breathe for the first time since I walked into this building. My hands were trembling and my heart was pounding.

Tomorrow morning at seven.

Ethan would be safe. The debt would be gone. That was the only thing that mattered. Everything else, whatever Julian wanted from me, whatever "available whenever he needs me" actually meant, I would figure out as I went.

The elevator reached the lobby and I walked out into the cold night air.

Five years. I just had to survive it.