I Gave Myself to a Monster for My Father’s Debt, but the Mafia Boss Became Obsessed With the One Thing He Could Never Own
Part 2: “I knew you’d talk to them. You’re good with people. You make people feel sorry.”
Something inside Elena cracked.
But it did not break.
She looked at Arthur’s bleeding face and hated him.
Then loved him anyway.
That was the worst part.
He was weak. He was wrong. He had used her. But he was still the father who had not walked out when she was six. The old promise tightened around her throat like a chain.
Elena stood straighter and faced Lucian Moretti.
“Let him go.”
Lucian studied her.
“He owes me more than he can pay.”
“Then take my labor.”
The room changed.
Arthur’s head snapped up.
The guards went still.
The blond man’s smile sharpened.
Elena’s voice shook, but she forced it clear.
“Not my body. Not my life as something you own. My labor. I can clean, cook, sew, work in your hotel, your laundry, your kitchen. Whatever you need. I will pay his debt with work, but I am not yours.”
Men in that room understood begging. They understood fear. They understood women breaking.
Elena had given them sacrifice with a boundary.
That made her inconvenient.
Lucian’s gaze stayed on her face.
“You are negotiating with a man who has no reason to accept your terms.”
“No,” Elena said. “I am begging a man who still knows the difference between work and ownership.”
The blond man laughed.
“That is a dangerous assumption.”
Lucian did not laugh.
“You are offering years of your life for a man who placed you on the table before you entered the room.”
Elena swallowed.
“He is my father.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one I have.”
Arthur sobbed her name.
Elena waited, foolishly, for him to stand up. To say no. To say his daughter was not payment.
He did not.
He covered his face and cried.
Lucian looked from Arthur to Elena, then said, “Fine.”
The word landed like a sentence.
“Your father walks out breathing. You come with me until I decide what his debt is worth.”
“My labor,” Elena said.
“Your labor,” Lucian replied.
The blond man stepped forward. “Mr. Moretti, the private note suggested a broader assurance.”
May you like
Lucian did not look at him.
“Did I ask for the note, Bastion?”
