Chapter 3 - The Underground Debt
Stripped of her status and my funding, Vanessa’s world turned cold. The luxury she had traded her soul for evaporated overnight. Then, the shadows she had ignored came calling.
Years ago, to pay for my mother’s surgeries, I had been an enforcer in the city’s underground fighting rings. I knew the players, the debt collectors, and the men who didn't accept "I'll pay you next month" as an answer. Vanessa had been borrowing from these exact men, betting on her ability to lock down my fortune before they came to collect.
She came to my office, not in designer couture, but in a plain, sweat-stained hoodie. She looked small—pathetic, really. She threw herself at my feet, pleading for a bailout. "Adrian, please. They’re going to kill me. You’re the only one who can fix this!"
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I looked down at her from my desk, my expression unreadable. I remembered the sound of my mother’s knees hitting that marble floor. "You thought I was soft," I said, my voice cold as liquid nitrogen. "You thought my wealth made me a target. You forgot that I earned every cent by breaking bones, not by charming people at galas."
I didn't lift a finger to save her. I let the reality of her choices sit in the room with her. When she pulled out a voice recorder, hoping to blackmail me with a snippet of our private arguments, I just laughed. I had been recording every conversation since the boutique. I played back her own threats to my mother, the audio crisp and damning. She realized then that she wasn't dealing with a CEO anymore—she was dealing with a man who had survived the worst life had to offer, and who had finally decided that she was the villain of his story.
