Prologue

Iris! Iris!"

Mrs. Wilson's voice rang through the neighborhood as she called out to her 12-year-old daughter. Down the street, Iris was laughing and playing with a few kids, her bare feet kicking up dust on the pavement. Upon hearing her mother's sharp tone, her smile faded, and she hurried toward the house.

As soon as she reached the front door, her mother grabbed her by the arm. "Haven't I warned you not to leave the house when your father and I aren't home?" she scolded, her voice filled with frustration.

"I…I'm sorry, Mom," Iris stammered, lowering her gaze. "I just wanted to play for a little while."

Mrs. Wilson's eyes burned with anger. Without another word, she yanked Iris inside by her ear, dragging her across the small, dimly lit living room. Just as Iris whimpered in pain, the front door swung open, and her father, Jake Wilson, stepped in.

"Let go of her," he said, his voice low but firm.

Mrs. Wilson turned to him, her face twisted with anger. "Stay out of this, Jake! She never listens! This girl—" she pointed at Iris, who stood frozen in fear— "is nothing but a curse to this family."

Jake's expression darkened. Before she could say another word, his hand struck across her cheek in a sharp slap. The room fell silent, except for the sound of Iris's breath hitching in her throat.

"Don't you ever say that about my daughter again," he growled.

Mrs. Wilson clutched her cheek, her eyes blazing with resentment. "You see? You hit me because of her! She's ruining this family!"

Iris clenched her fists, her chest tightening. She hated this. Hated the fighting. Hated being the reason for their arguments.

She lowered her head, biting her lip to hold back tears.

They barely had enough to survive. Her father struggled to find steady work, and her mother carried the weight of keeping them fed. But even as a child, Iris knew—no matter what she did, she would never be enough for her mother.

And that was the kind of pain that no amount of apologies could fix.

*_Five Years Later_* 

Life had only gotten worse.

After they discovered Susan had heart cancer, their already small income dropped even further. Iris did her best to take on part-time jobs, but the pay was barely enough to cover her mother's medical bills. Her father, Jake, had been struggling to find work, and the constant stress drove him to drinking.

 *A few months later, Susan died.* 

Her death shattered them both, leaving behind only sorrow, regret, and unbearable pain. Jake was never the same after that. Desperate to keep a roof over their heads, he borrowed money from a notorious mafia gang just to pay rent and buy food. But when the time came to pay it back, there was nothing. No job. No savings. No escape.

Iris worked tirelessly, taking on any job she could find in hopes of repaying the debt. But luck never seemed to be on their side.

"Jake, please take care of our daughter for me… Tell her I'm sorry for everything… and that I love her."

Those had been Susan's last words before she died. They haunted Jake's mind every single day. Even a year later, her loss still felt fresh—like a wound that refused to heal.

A sudden noise snapped Jake out of his thoughts. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the distance.

Paul Supriano.

He was a local drug dealer and the leader of the Sindaco mafia gang in Cubs. And he had come to collect.

Bang! Bang!

A loud knock rattled the door.

"Open up, Jack!" Paul's voice was cold, unforgiving. "You owe me, remember?"

Jake's heart pounded. He knew this day would come.

"Dad… who is that?" Iris asked, stepping into the small living room.

Jake turned to her, his expression grim. "Go back to your room, Iris," he said firmly. "I have some things to take care of."

Reluctantly, she obeyed, retreating down the hall as Jake hesitantly opened the door.

Paul stood at the entrance, flanked by two of his men. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he took a slow step inside.

"Where's my money, Jack?" Paul asked, his voice dangerously calm.

Jake swallowed hard. "I… I don't have it all yet. Please, give me more time. I promise, I'll—"

Thud!

Paul's fist collided with Jake's stomach, sending him stumbling back.

"This is exactly what you said two months ago," Paul sneered.

Jake gasped for air, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Dad! What's going on?" Iris screamed, rushing toward them.

Paul's gaze shifted to her, and a slow smirk crept onto his lips.

"Well, well… what do we have here?" He motioned to his men, and before Iris could react, they grabbed her arms, holding her in place.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, struggling against their grip.

Paul chuckled. "Such a beauty…" His fingers brushed against her cheek, sending a shiver of disgust down her spine. "Maybe I should take her instead of the money."

Jake's eyes widened in horror. "No! Please, don't—"

Paul let out a low laugh and took a step back. "Relax, old man. I'm feeling generous today." He nodded toward Iris. "I'm letting you go… this time. But next month, I won't be so kind."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, his men following close behind.

Iris hurried to her father's side, helping him sit up.

"Dad… was that the gang you borrowed money from?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Jake nodded weakly, shame filling his eyes.

Iris clenched her fists. That night, as she sat beside her injured father, she made a vow.

One day… we'll escape this life. No matter what it takes.

---

 *_Four years later_*