A flash of pain crosses Sophia’s face. “I love both my daughters.”
“Yet only one is being offered as collateral.” I shrug. “Family dynamics aren’t my concern.”
I think again of Alina Brewer. Once, I watched her help an elderly customer who couldn’t decide between pastries. And even though it took a long time, her patience seemed endless, her smile genuine. Another time, she was wiping down tables, tucking strands of that remarkable red hair behind her ear as she worked.
She never noticed me watching. People rarely do. I prefer it that way.
“What happens to the bakery if you die?” I ask. The question is purely to entertain my curiosity.
Sophia’s smile tightens. “Alina and Sabrina will inherit all my assets and split them fifty-fifty.”
I return to my seat, steepling my fingers.
“But I’ll make sure it’s paid before you have to...” Sophia doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to.
For a moment, I almost admire her composure. Almost.
“And if I have to collect,” I say, my voice dropping lower, “understand what that means. She belongs to me.Completely.She’ll be mine to do with as I please.”
More tears well in Sophia’s eyes, but her voice remains steady. “Iwillrepay you. I promise.”
“Promises are worthless.” I shake my head. “But contracts…” I reach into my desk drawer and pull out a leather-bound ledger. Opening it reveals a contract already prepared—I had it drawn up after reviewing her initial loan request. “Contracts have power.”
I fill in the loan amount and her full name in precise handwriting. Then I sign my name at the bottom with a flourish. “Read it,” I tell her, sliding the contract across the desk. “Every word. And then fill out the required information.”
Silence fills the room while Sophia reads through the contract. Occasionally, she turns the pages and sniffs loudly.
“This clause…” Her finger hovers over a paragraph near the bottom on the third page. “It says you have the right to check on the collateral at any time.”
“Standard practice.” I smile coldly. “I protect my investments.”
She continues reading, her face growing paler with each line. When she reaches the end, she looks up at me, and I see the full weight of what she’s doing settle on her shoulders.
“Do you have any questions?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Then sign.” I hold out the pen. “Or walk away. The choice is yours, Ms. Brewer.”
We both know it’s not really a choice. She’s already made it this far, and the people who meet me face-to-face are usually already prepared to pay anything. Sophia takes the pen, her hand trembling now.
There are no tears as she fills out Alina’s full name, date of birth, security number, and a few other details. But one falls when she signs her name with surprising firmness.
“Excellent.” I take back the contract, closing the ledger. “You’ll have the money in your account before end-of-business today.”
“Thank you.” The words sound hollow even to her.
“Don’t thank me, Ms. Brewer.” I rise, indicating our meeting is over. “Just make sure you pay me.”
As she gathers her things to leave, I allow myself one final thought of Alina Brewer—the collateral I may someday collect. The girl who has no idea that her mom just gambled her future away.
Chapter 2
Alina
Present day, 5 years later.
The funeral home smells of lilies and formaldehyde, a combination that turns my stomach with each inhale. Standing beside my mom’s casket, I focus on keeping my face blank, my spine straight, my breathing even.
