Chapter 2

“I think you are in the wrong house,” I started, dropping my bag on the ground.

The man grunted, hitting his bat against his hand casually, “Don’t lie to us girl.”

I took a shaky step back. “He’s not here, I am not lying,” I stammered, my voice breaking.

One of the men, broader and taller than the other, narrowed his eyes. “Wrong answer,” he said, his tone cold and biting.

“It’s the truth,” I insisted, my hands raised in a feeble attempt to calm them. As if I can do anything.

“He’s not…”

A faint shuffle came from the closet behind me.

The noise was subtle, barely audible over the pounding of my heart, but it was enough. The men’s heads whipped toward the sound.

“What was that?” the smaller man asked, a cruel smirk spreading across his face.

“No,” I blurted, stepping in front of the closet. “It’s nothing! I swear—”

Before I could finish, the broad man shoved me aside like I was nothing more than a piece of furniture. I stumbled, catching myself against the wall as they stormed toward the closet.

“Let’s see about that,” he muttered, yanking the door open with a single motion.

Inside, my father cowered, his thin frame trembling as he tried to press himself deeper into the shadows. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror.

“No,” I whispered, my stomach twisting into knots.

“There you are, old man,” the broad man sneered, grabbing my father by the collar and hauling him out of the closet.

“Please!” I screamed, rushing forward. “Don’t hurt him! He’s sick—he can’t—”

The smaller man shoved me back, his laughter cruel. “Sick or not, he’s got a debt to pay.”

My father struggled weakly in their grasp, his voice a hoarse plea. “Please, I’ll pay—I just need more time.”

“Time?” The broad man laughed bitterly, throwing my father to the floor. “You’ve had time. Plenty of it. Now, it’s our turn to collect.”

They didn’t hesitate.

The first kick landed hard against my father’s ribs, sending him sprawling. He gasped in pain, clutching his side, but they didn’t stop. Blow after blow rained down on him as he writhed on the floor.

“Stop!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Please, stop! I’ll do anything—just stop!”

But they didn’t listen.

The smaller man grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it against the wall, splintering the wood. He grabbed one of the broken legs and used it to jab at my father’s side, a twisted smile on his face.

“Liar,” the broad man snarled, his boot connecting with my father’s stomach. “You thought you could hide from us? Thought you could send your daughter to lie for you?”

“I didn’t lie!” I cried, falling to my knees beside them. “I didn’t know—please, just stop!”

The broad man grabbed me by the arm and yanked me away, his grip like iron. “Stay out of this,” he barked, shoving me against the wall. “Unless you want to take his place.”

I clutched my arm, tears streaming down my face as I watched them beat my father mercilessly. His groans of pain filled the room, each one cutting through me like a knife.

“You should have paid up, old man,” the smaller man hissed, leaning down to grab my father by the collar. “Now you’re going to wish you had.”

My father’s voice was barely a whisper. “Please… don’t hurt her,” he begged, his bloodied face turning toward me.

The words made the men pause, their gazes flicking between us. Slowly, a grin spread across the smaller man’s face.

“Maybe we’ve been going about this the wrong way,” he said, his tone dripping with malice. He turned to the broad man. “What do you think? Should we teach the girl a lesson instead?”

“No,” I gasped, shaking my head furiously. “Please—”

“Enough!”

The word cut through the chaos like a knife cutting a cake,

It silenced the room instantly.

We all turned toward the man sitting on the sofa, close to my mother.

I hadn’t even realized she was there, cowering in fear, her fragile frame trembling.

“Oh, Momma…” I whispered, my heart breaking.

But my attention snapped back to the man as he leaned forward, switching on the lamp beside him.

The soft glow illuminated his face, sharp and hauntingly handsome.

A scar close to his left eyebrow, his hair styled, legs crossed against My breath caught in my throat.

Dominic De Luca.

I froze, my blood running cold.

Dominic De Luca, one of the most feared men in Beldova. His name was whispered in the darkest corners of the city, his power absolute.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto mine, sending a chill down my spine. I’d seen him before, always at De Stone, the exclusive club where I danced. He would sit in the shadows, silent and watching, his gaze like a weight on my skin.

One of my highest tippers. A man who never asked for a private dance, never even spoke to me.

But he was always there. Watching.

And now, he was here. In my home.

Dominic’s presence filled the room, cold and commanding, his tailored black suit immaculate, as though he hadn’t just walked into a scene of violence and desperation.

The men who had been tormenting my father seemed to shrink under his gaze, their earlier bravado evaporating.

“Aria,” Dominic said, his voice smooth yet unnervingly deep, wrapping around my name like a caress.

I shivered.

“Dominic,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking softly against the floor, each step deliberate and measured. His gaze swept over me, taking in the disarray of my appearance, the tear stains on my face, the trembling in my hands.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the scene around him, “is unfortunate.”

Unfortunate. As if this was just a minor inconvenience to him.

His gaze shifted to the men. “Leave us.”

“But, boss—” one of them started, his voice faltering under Dominic’s sharp glare.

“I said leave.”

The men didn’t hesitate after that, scrambling out of the room with their heads bowed.

If it was a better situation I would have laughed at them for being pussies when a real boss arrive.

But no, this man was scarier than those two combined.

The silence they left behind was deafening.

Dominic turned his attention to my father, who lay crumpled on the floor, clutching his ribs. Slowly, he reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

My breath caught.

“Dominic,” I whispered, panic rising in my chest. “Please, don’t—”

“Your father owes me a great deal of money,” Dominic said, his tone calm, almost conversational. He leveled the gun at my father’s head, his finger brushing the trigger. “More than I care to forgive. I could put a bullet in his head and the debt be forgiven.”

“No!” I cried, throwing myself between them. I dropped to my knees, my hands trembling as I reached out. “Please, he’s sick. My mother is sick. We don’t have money. Please, forgive him. Please.”

Dominic stared down at me, his expression unreadable.

The gun remained steady in his hand.

Tears streamed down my face as I begged, my voice breaking with desperation. “I’ll do anything. Please, don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt my family.”

At that, Dominic tilted his head, a glimmer of interest flickering in his dark eyes. He lowered the gun slightly, though his grip remained firm.

“Anything?” he asked softly.

I nodded frantically, the words tumbling out of me before I could think. “Yes. Anything. Just tell me what to do.”

For a moment, he said nothing, instead he stared. Like he always did. Not saying anything. Just watching.

Like a predator monitoring his prey.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Be mine.”

The room seemed to tilt, his words echoing in my ears.

“What?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“You heard me,” Dominic said, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with steel. “Be mine, Aria. Your body, your loyalty, your life. Belong to me, and your father’s debt will disappear.”

I stared at him, my mind racing, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

This couldn’t be real.

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I’m offering you a way out,” Dominic said, his tone almost gentle. “Your father lives. Your mother gets the care she needs. But you…” He paused, his gaze grey eyes piercing into mine. “You become mine.”