Chapter2

A week after the Rolls Royce incident, the debt collectors came.

I looked through the peephole at those two faces. My stomach immediately clenched into a knot.

The loan shark's men. The tall one said last week that if I didn't pay back twenty thousand by Friday, they'd sell my mother's burial plot to cover the debt.

Today was only Wednesday.

I opened the door a crack.

"Where's the money?" the tall one asked.

"I said Friday."

"Plans changed." He wedged a foot in the doorway. "Today. Or we go to the cemetery right now and do the paperwork."

I pushed the door, but he didn't budge. "I'll get the money."

"How?" The one in back laughed. "Gonna sell yourself? Girls like you don't fetch much these days."

The tall one pulled out his phone and showed me a photo.

My mother's headstone, with the flowers I'd placed last week.

"Friday noon, twenty thousand cash. Otherwise this plot belongs to our boss."

They left. I closed the door and leaned against it, gasping.

My phone vibrated in my hand. My boss.

"Lily, come to the studio now. Immediately."

That tone. I'd heard it before.

I knew it was over.

When I got to the studio, my boss was already waiting in her office. She didn't ask me to sit.

"Your design drafts from last week—the client rejected all of them." She turned the tablet toward me. "The color scheme is gloomy, the layout's a mess. And you missed three client meetings yesterday."

"I can explain—"

"No need to explain." She pushed an envelope across. "This is your last month's salary and severance. Pack your things. Leave before end of day."

I walked out of the building holding the envelope. It was pathetically thin, probably enough to cover half a month's rent.

Back at my apartment building, I saw yellow paper stuck to my door.

Eviction notice. Move out within 72 hours.

I tore down the notice and found that familiar thick envelope stuffed in the door crack.

Legal documents.

I kicked the door open, ripped open the envelope.

Same words: Civil Complaint, Plaintiff Leo Aston, Claim Amount $85,000.

But this time I saw a handwritten line at the bottom: "To discuss settlement options, contact this number."

I stared at those digits for a long time.

Then I picked up my phone and dialed.

The phone connected.

"Mr. Aston's office." A woman's voice.

"I need to speak with Mr. Aston. About Lily Carter."

"Please hold."

I waited. My finger picked at the edge of the legal document.

"This is Aston." A man's voice came through. Deep. Steady.

"I'm Lily Carter," I said. "I got the lawsuit papers."

"Ms. Carter." His voice gave nothing away. "I assume you want to discuss settlement."

"I can't pay eighty-five thousand dollars." My voice was shaking. "I can't even pay my rent."

Silence on the other end for a few seconds. "I'm aware of your situation. You owe loan sharks, just lost your job, your fiancé ran off with all your money."

He paused. "Sounds like you need a comprehensive solution."

"You have one?"

"Maybe. But I can't explain over the phone." His voice dropped lower. "Tomorrow at three, the bar at the Four Seasons downtown. We'll talk in person."

"Talk about what?"

"About a deal." He said. "A deal that can solve all your problems at once. Your debts, your legal troubles, your housing situation."

I gripped my phone. "What kind of deal?"

"The kind that might make you want to slap me when you hear it."

There was a trace of cold amusement in his voice.

"But you'll come, Ms. Carter. Because right now you don't have any other options."

The call ended.

I put down the phone. Documents scattered on the floor.

Leo Aston. He'd investigated me. He knew everything.

I walked to the window and looked down. The two loan shark enforcers' car was still parked at the corner. They were waiting for me to come out.

My mother's burial plot. My job. My apartment. And now an eighty-five thousand dollar lawsuit.

Tomorrow at three. Four Seasons Hotel. A deal that could solve everything.

I walked to the closet and opened the door.

The wedding dress still hung in the back, like a pale ghost.

I stared at it for a long time.

Then I slammed the door shut.

I'd go. Meet this Leo Aston.

But God as my witness, if he thought I'd cry and thank him—

I picked up the legal document from the floor, staring at the plaintiff's name.

Leo Aston.

See you tomorrow.