Chapter 2 - The Brother’s Debt
For three weeks, Sadie tried to convince herself that the night had been a fever dream. She bought new couch covers, spent the five thousand dollars paying off her mother’s remaining medical collection accounts, and went back to her double shifts at The Rusted Anchor.
Then Dean ruined everything.
It happened on a damp Tuesday evening. She came home to find her front door kicked off its hinges, her apartment ransacked, and Dean sitting in the corner with a swollen jaw and tears streaming down his bruised face.
“What did you do, Dean?” Sadie asked, her voice flat, devoid of energy to even yell.
“It wasn't my fault, Sade,” Dean whimpered, wiping blood from his lip. “I met a guy who had a tip on a high-stakes poker game in Rittenhouse Square. I borrowed a little capital from a private lender. Just ten grand! I was supposed to double it!”
Sadie closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the cool door frame. “Who did you borrow from?”
“The syndicate,” Dean whispered, trembling violently. “The Rossi family. Their collectors came today. They said if I don't bring ten thousand dollars to The Onyx Club by midnight, they’re going to break both my knees and drop me in the Delaware River.”
Sadie felt her stomach drop into a dark, bottomless pit. Rossi. The name echoed in her mind like a funeral bell.
“I don't have ten thousand dollars, Dean!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “I used the money I had to pay Mom’s debt!”
“Please, Sadie!” Dean fell to his knees, clutching her coat. “You know people! You work at the bar! Can't you borrow it? They said if I don't show up with something, I'm dead!”
Sadie looked at her brother—foolish, reckless, and weak, but still the only family she had left in the world. She took a deep, shuddering breath. She emptied her savings account, withdrew every penny from her tip jar, and begged Frank Donnelly for a short-term wage loan. By 11:00 PM, she had managed to gather ten thousand dollars in cash, stuffed into a plain brown paper bag.
She took the subway to Center City, stepping out into the polished streets of the financial district. The Onyx Club stood behind grand limestone pillars, shielded by tinted glass and guarded by two massive men in tailored tuxedos.
“I’m here to see the manager regarding Dean Hayes’ debt,” Sadie said, keeping her chin up despite her pounding heart.
One guard checked an earpiece, nodded, and opened the heavy brass door.
The interior of the club was a masterpiece of dark mahogany, velvet curtains, and low crystal lighting. The scent of expensive cigars and imported bourbon hung heavy in the air. Sadie was escorted up a winding carpeted staircase into a private corner office on the second floor.
The guard opened the double oak doors and stepped aside. “Go in.”
Sadie clutched the paper bag tightly against her ribs and stepped into the room.
Sitting behind a massive marble-topped desk was a man reviewing financial ledgers. He was impeccably dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit. Dark hair styled back. A subtle silver signet ring on his right hand.
He lifted his head.
May you like
Sadie’s breath caught in her throat. Cold gray eyes locked onto hers. A faint, pale scar ran along his jawline—and beneath his suit, she knew, were her own clumsy nylon stitches across his ribs.
Gabriel Rossi.
