Chapter 1

My year-end bonus arrived, $15,000.

My boyfriend excitedly asked me to treat him to a big meal, and I agreed.

But after we finished eating at a high-end restaurant, a group of people in black clothes surrounded us.

"One hundred thousand dollars, please pay."

I was terrified, but I looked through the group of black-clad people and saw Ridley Bell behind them.

The former deputy of my father's criminal organization.

I rushed forward angrily and said, "My father is the mafia boss, Ryan Elisa! How dare you..."

But I was immediately knocked down.

"A bitch who only has $10,000 in Cary dares to say that she is our boss's child?!"————

"Attempting to flee without paying? Are you aware of whose territory this is?" A man snarled, his tone low and threatening, reminiscent of a predator poised to strike. He stood menacingly, his body tense and ready for confrontation. The subdued lighting above cast long shadows across the lavish dining area. Everything sparkled—gilded decorations, crystal light fixtures—but beneath the opulence lurked an undercurrent of peril, a snare disguised as splendor.

A cluster of thugs encircled me, their gazes cold and calculating. One drew near, the blade of a butcher's knife grazing my shoulder with unsettling precision, as if testing its edge. I tensed, trying to quell the tremor coursing through me, but dread gripped me tightly, making it hard to draw breath. My thoughts whirled. Was this some form of blackmail? No wonder a few dishes and a bottle of wine had cost a hundred thousand dollars!

Inhaling deeply to steady my nerves, I inquired, as evenly as I could manage, "Where has my boyfriend gone? What happened to him?" My voice wavered slightly, betraying my facade of calm.

If not for Hobs, who had insisted on dining at this establishment, I would never have ventured into such a remote location. Certainly, the restaurant exuded luxury—plush crimson seats, tables draped in immaculate white linens, and an intimate atmosphere that exuded exclusivity—but nothing had seemed amiss at first glance. I had assumed my fifteen-thousand-dollar bonus would easily cover the expense. I hadn't anticipated this turn of events.

At the mention of Hobs, one of the thugs sneered, a malicious grin twisting his features. "Searching for him? Pointless. He's the one who instructed us to bind you!"

"Claimed you were an easy target, too—worth not just a hundred thousand dollars but a million!" another added with a derisive chuckle. "Evidently, he was mistaken. What misfortune!"

The revelation hit me like a blow. Hobs had betrayed me. The man I had trusted had lured me into a trap, then vanished without a trace. My heart constricted with a mixture of hurt and disbelief, but I had no time to dwell on it.

"If we can't extract the money, we'll simply sell you to a massage parlor to recoup our losses!" one thug jeered, his voice laced with crude amusement.

At the mention of a massage parlor, terror surged through me, breaking through my stupor. I shouted, straining against my bonds, "Stop! This is abduction and extortion! You can't do this! Release me!"

The thug nearest to me laughed, a harsh, grating sound like metal scraping concrete. "Release you? If you object to the massage parlor, fine. Pay up. Otherwise, I have plenty of other options." He leaned in, seizing my throat with an iron grip. His fingers dug painfully into my skin, choking off my air supply as he forced my head into a nearby water container.

Frigid water engulfed my face, flooding my nose and mouth. My lungs burned as I flailed, desperate for oxygen. Just as I felt consciousness slipping away, he yanked me back up and I gasped, coughing violently, my chest heaving for air.

"I'll pay!" I sputtered, my voice raspy. "But I don't have that sum on hand. Allow me to make a call—I can arrange for someone to deliver the money."

I wasn't being dishonest. The majority of my savings were with my mother. All I had in my account was the fifteen-thousand-dollar bonus, and that was far from sufficient. Even if they took my life, I couldn't conjure a hundred thousand dollars out of nowhere.

Before I could continue, a stocky man with a thick beard stepped forward and struck me across the face. The blow stung sharply and my head jerked to the side. "Dressed in high-end designer clothing and you expect us to believe you can't afford a hundred thousand dollars?" he sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Who do you think you're deceiving?"

He towered over me, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You want to place a call? Don't imagine I'm unaware of your intentions. If you dare alert the authorities, you're finished!"

Another thug, visibly agitated, shifted restlessly and muttered, "Boss, stop wasting time. Let's just send her to the massage parlor already. With her appearance, she'll command more than a hundred grand!"

I squinted through the pain and the fog of fear at the man they addressed as 'boss.' Recognition dawned on me like a sudden revelation. Ridley Bell. One of my father's former lieutenants.

Ryan Elissa—my father. A mafia boss dreaded by many, but to me, he had always been something else: a doting, overprotective dad who had showered me with affection and presents, despite the violent underworld he commanded.