My knuckles turned a ghostly white as I read. A text message that burned through my retinas. My thumb hovered over Leo's contact, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. Is he okay? Is he home safe? I quickly dialed his number.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Please, Leo, pick up," I murmured.
At last, Leo's familiar voice answered, tired but warm, a reassuring sound that cooled my rising panic.
"Hey, babe," he said, "I'm just heating some soup. The cheap kind you love." I let out a long breath I didn't realize I was holding. He was safe, in our little, leaky apartment, and that was enough to calm me down.
"Leo, listen to me," I whispered, glancing around the half-empty train. "Lock the door and don't let anyone in— not even the super. I'm coming home right now."
"Eva? What's wrong? You sound like you've seen a ghost."
"Worse," I replied, my eyes catching my reflection in the dark window. "I've met a monster." I hurried from the station to our building, the hallway smelling of boiled cabbage and floor wax—the kind of smell that someone like Roman Claudius wouldn't last a second in. I burst through the door, my chest heavy from anxiety. Leo was standing in the kitchen, his arm still in a sling from a warehouse accident six months ago—the one that cost him his job and nearly his mobility. He looked at me with concern etched across his face.
"Eva, talk to me. What happened at the event?"
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I walked into his good arm and buried my face in his chest. He smelled like soap and home. He didn't smell like sandalwood or a bank vault, but just his presence was enough to soothe my nerves.
"A man," I managed to say, "a man named Roman Claudius. He's insane, Leo. He believes he can buy people."
Leo stiffened, his muscles tightening like stone.
"The CEO of Claudius International?" I was surprised.
"You know him?"
Leo's face darkened, shadowed with a look I'd never seen before. "I used to work in their company as a 'Relationship Officer.' Roman fired me after his father died. He denied my workers' compensation and told me to get lost because I was not a team player for speaking out against his safety violations in the women's sector."
My blood ran cold as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place with a sickening thud. Roman hadn't chosen me by chance; he was a predator who liked to reclaim what he thought belonged to him.
"He sent me a text, Leo. He knows about you. His message is a warning—"
"That's him," Leo cut in sharply. "He's been silently hunting me ever since he fired me. Nobody crosses him. My offense was speaking out for women he molested and withheld their salaries—a scandal that shook the stock market. Since then, I've become a scapegoat. The name 'Claudius International' was once run by his father, Mr. Rodrigo Claudius."
Before Leo could say more, a loud thumping sound began at the door—repeated and demanding. I froze, and Leo moved me behind him, grabbing a heavy iron skillet.
"Stay back," he warned as he opened the door just a crack.
It wasn't the police, nor a hitman. It was two men in charcoal suits, one of whom was holding a black briefcase.
"Mr. Leo Anderson," the man said in a clinical tone, like a surgeon, "Mr. Roman Claudius sends his regards. And he sends this."
He didn't wait for an invitation. Instead, he placed his briefcase on our battered wooden table and unlatched it with purpose. The flickering overhead light caught sight of the contents, and I couldn't help but gasp.
It was more than just money; it was stacks of high-denomination bills neatly wrapped in paper bands.
"One million dollars," the man announced with a calm yet firm tone. "A 'severance package' for your previous troubles. But there's one condition."
"What condition?"Leo yelled.
Leo didn't even glance at the money. His attention was fixed on the man. The man shifted his gaze toward me and said, "That Ms. Eva June leaves with me tonight. Mr. Roman has decided she is the only thing he wants for his party tonight".
Leo's grip on the skillet tightened, and I noticed the vein in his neck throbbing.
"Get out," Leo commanded, his voice a low, fierce growl. "My fiancée is a thing?"
"Mr. Leo, please be reasonable," another voice interjected. "With this money, you could get a better apartment. Or even buy a house. You could—"
"I said, leave now!" Leo snapped, stepping forward. "Have I begged him for food? For a roof over my head? Or anything else? Get out now!!"
The man didn't flinch. He simply closed his briefcase and adjusted his tie.
"Mr. Claudius warned me you might get sentimental. He asked me to tell you one more thing." He looked directly at Leo with disdain. "He remembers firing you, breaking your arm back then, and now he can break your life too. This wasn't an offer, Leo. It was an exit plan. You should have taken it."
Without another word, they turned and left, leaving the door wide open. I hurried to close it, my hands trembling so much I could barely manage the deadbolt. Then I faced Leo, ready to cry or scream — but he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were fixed on his phone.
"Eva," he whispered, voice trembling. "Look."
I glanced at the screen. It was a notification from his bank. Account Balance: $0.00. Every penny we had saved — for his medicine, rent, and our future — was gone.
Barely thirty minutes later, my phone buzzed again. A text message:
"The price just went up, Eva. Now, you're coming to me for free. I'll be waiting in the black limo downstairs. You've got five minutes before your landlord calls about the overdue rent I just bought."
I looked out the window. A sleek, black Maybach sat idling outside, looking like a shark in a goldfish pond. Two men in dark suits were already talking to our landlord, pointing up at our window.
"Leo," I whispered, tears welling up. "He's erasing us."
Leo grasped my hand tightly, eyes fierce.
"He can't erase us, Eva. I'm going down there."
"No!" I cried. "He'll kill you!"
But just as I looked at the door, I realized it wasn't only the landlord coming up the stairs — I could hear the heavy boots pounding closer.