Chapter 2

The aroma of scotch eggs filled the kitchen as Sophie flipped them over in the pan, trying to ignore the growing tension pressing down on her chest. Lucas hadn’t come out of his room yet, which was unusual. He was always ready for dinner, helping her or writing some journals.

Her mother, Claire, walked into the kitchen and leaned on the counter, a cigarette already in her hand, the smoke causing havoc in the kitchen

“How many times would, I tell you it's bad to smoke in the kitchen,” Sophie said, not expecting a response.

Claire groaned, taking a long drag from the cigarette. Her hair was tangled, and her oversized sweatshirt slipped off one shoulder. Sophie had long stopped trying to lecture her about smoking inside—it wasn’t worth the fight.

As Sophie plated the eggs, a loud knock at the door startled her. She frowned, wiping her hands on a towel. The knocks became more loud.

“Sophie! Open up!” a voice shouted from the other side. It was Mrs. Ramirez, their neighbor.

Sophie hurried to the door, her heart already racing. When she opened it, Mrs. Ramirez was panting, her face pale.

“It’s Lucas,” the older woman gasped. “Some men... they’re beating him up in the alley behind the building!”

Sophie almost collapsed, the words not fully registering. “What?” she breathed.

“You need to come now!” Mrs. Ramirez urged, her voice sharp with urgency.

Sophie didn’t wait. She grabbed her jacket and rushed out, her bare feet barely hitting the cold pavement outside. Behind her, Claire ran after her, cigarette still in her hand.

“What’s happening?” Claire shouted, trying to keep up as they hurried down the stairs. “Where are we going?”

“It’s Lucas!” Sophie snapped, her voice breaking. “He’s in trouble!”

Claire blinked, her mind struggling to catch up. “Lucas?” she muttered, stumbling as she held the railing for support. “What are you talking about?”

They burst out into the back alley, where a small crowd had gathered. Sophie pushed past them, her breath catching in her throat at the sight before her.

Lucas was curled on the ground, his arms shielding his head as two men bounced over him. One kicked him hard in the ribs, while the other shouted something Sophie couldn’t make out over the pounding in her ears.

“Stop!” Sophie screamed, running toward them. “Get away from him!”

The men turned to her, their faces twisted with anger. One of them stepped forward, his fists clenched. “Stay out of this, lady. This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Sophie shouted, placing herself between them and Lucas, who groaned weakly from the ground. Her hands trembled, but she didn’t back down.

Behind her, Claire finally caught up, staggering into the alley. She took a drag from her cigarette, her eyes widening when she saw Lucas. “What the—”

************

Adrian sat on his wheel chair, resting his head as the message replayed in his mind: The empire crumbles from within. Prepare for your doom....

Whoever had sent it knew something—something they shouldn’t. Adrian hated the feeling of vulnerability, the idea that someone might have gained an edge over him. The photograph, blurry as it was, had been enough to spark a growing unease. It wasn’t just a threat; it was a warning.

Who could it be? Who could be playing with his emotions. His mind racer with possibilities, strategies, and suspects.

He was lost in thought when the sleek black phone on the counter vibrated again. The screen lit up with a name that made his jaw tighten: Dad.

Adrian stared at the phone, his chest tightening with the mix of anger and bitterness. He let it ring, the sound adding more to his anger, until it finally stopped. A moment later, it buzzed again.

Dad....

Adrian he glared at the screen. The third call came through, and this time, he grabbed the phone, his finger flipping over the answer button. But he couldn’t bring himself to press it.

Instead, he tossed the phone onto the drawer and leaned against the desk. Could his father be the one threatening him?

The memories came rushing back again.

His childhood home was a palace of wealth and privilege, but it had never felt like home. His father, a ruthless miner in his own right, had always been more concerned with appearances and power than family. Adrian’s mother had long since checked out emotionally, retreating into a world of social events and private clubs, leaving Adrian and his siblings to fend for themselves.

Adrian’s teenage years were a constant battle for approval that never came. His father demanded perfection—perfect grades, perfect behavior, perfect loyalty. But when Adrian made a mistake, it wasn’t met with understanding. It was met with cold fury.

The final break had come when Adrian decided to leave the family business to build himself. His father had called him a fool, ungrateful, a disgrace to the Stairs name. They’d argued, and Adrian had walked out, swearing never to look back.

He changed his surname from Stairs to Steele.

Years had passed, but the wounds remained raw. His father had tried to reconcile once, but it was only a facade—a ploy to drag Adrian back under his thumb. Adrian had refused, cutting off contact.

And now, the calls.

The phone buzzed again, and Adrian’s frustration boiled over. He took it out, his hand trembling with restrained rage.

Without hesitation, he tapped the screen, opening the contact. He scrolled down, hit -Block Number-, and confirmed it.

Why didn't I do this long ago, he thought as his present problem rushed through his mind.

Adrian placed the phone back down and ran a hand through his damp hair. His father was no longer a part of his life, and Adrian intended to keep it that way. He didn’t need family, didn’t need anyone. All of them had forgotten him, but when he got his fame, they all started looking for him.

Just then Melissa swung the door open....

"When will you be leaving, sir"

He checked his watched and looked back at Melissa.

"Now"

He said and got up.

**********

Sophie knelt on the cold ground, her heart pounding as she shielded Lucas with her body. He groaned weakly beneath her, his breath shallow. The two men tried to pull him out, their faces hard and unforgiving.

“Please,” Sophie begged, her voice trembling. “He’s just a kid. Let him go. Whatever this is about, I’ll figure it out. Just—don’t hurt him anymore.”

One of the men smirked, crossing his arms. “Figure it out? You think sweet talk fixes this, girl? Your family owes us, and we’re tired of waiting.”

"I don't have much now” Sophie held back rhe tears. “But I arrange your money soon. I promise. Just... don’t hurt him again. He is not at fault”

The other man, a short figure with a scar running down his cheek, laughed coldly. “Promises don’t pay debts. We’ve been more than patient. Your mother owes us, and until we get our money, this is just the beginning.”

Sophie turned her head to look at her mother, who was standing a few steps away, swaying slightly. Claire’s eyes were wide with fear, but she didn’t say anything. Her hands trembled as she clutched her cigarette close to herself.

“I’ll pay you,” Sophie said, desperation creeping into her voice. “Just give me time.”

“You’ve had time,” Scarface growled. “Now it’s either the money or worse. Next time, we will burn down your house.”

Sophie’s stomach twisted at the threat, but she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll get it. Please....”

The men exchanged a glance before stepping back. “You’ve got a week. If we don’t get what’s ours, you’ll regret it.”

With that, they turned and walked away, their heavy footsteps echoing in the narrow alley.

Sophie let out a shaky breath and turned to Lucas, gently brushing the hair from his forehead. “Lucas, can you stand?”

“I... think so,” he mumbled, his voice weak. Sophie helped him to his feet, her arms steady despite her shaking hands.

Behind her, whispers started among the crowd that had gathered.

“Trash, just like their mother,” one woman muttered loud enough for Sophie to hear.

“They’re never going to pay that debt,” another man said, shaking his head. “Probably just waiting for another handout.”

“She’s no better than her drunk mother,” someone else added.

Sophie bit her lip, her cheeks burning with shame. She kept her head down, ignoring the pointed stares and muttered insults as she helped Lucas toward the building.

Claire followed behind them, her stepping unsteady. “They don’t know anything,” she muttered, her words slurring. “Don’t listen to them, Sophie.”

Sophie stopped in her tracks and turned to her mother, her eyes flashing with frustration and pain. “Maybe if you hadn’t gotten us into this mess, they wouldn’t have anything to say!”

Claire flinched, her mouth opening as if to argue, but no words came out. She looked away, guilt written across her face.

Sophie didn’t wait for a response. She tightened her grip on Lucas and continued up the stairs to their apartment, ignoring the murmurs that followed them.

As they reached the door, Lucas whispered, “I’m sorry, Sophie.”

Sophie shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.”

But as she closed the door behind them, leaning against it for support, she felt the weight of their situation press down on her.

The debt. The threats. The humiliation.

Sophie’s hands curled into fists. Somehow, she would fix this. She didn’t know how yet, but she would. For Lucas. For herself. For whatever future they still had left.