Chapter 2 - The Weight of the Bronx
The subway ride back to the Bronx took an hour, and with every passing mile, the adrenaline faded, leaving Nora hollow and terrified.
Her apartment was tiny, smelling of old pipes and the garlic from the neighbor's kitchen. She locked the deadbolt, leaned against the peeling paint of the door, and finally let herself cry. She had nothing. Her bank account was overdrawn, the eviction notice was a bright pink glaring threat on the kitchen counter, and her mother’s medical debts were a mountain she could never climb.
Across the city, in a penthouse overlooking Central Park, Damian Kell sat in his study. Sofia was safely asleep in her room, a rare, peaceful slumber.
Damian poured himself a glass of whiskey, staring at the file his head of security, Marcus, had just handed him. It had taken his team less than two hours to pull Nora Bellamy’s entire life apart.
"She’s clean, Boss," Marcus said, standing at ease. "Twenty-four years old. Dropped out of NYU two years ago when her mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Mother passed away six months ago. Nora took on all the medical debt. She's currently supporting her younger brother, Leo, paying his community college tuition. She’s three months behind on rent. She was literally starving herself to pay for his books."
Damian stared at the photograph of Nora attached to the file. He remembered the way she had shielded Sofia, putting her own body between his daughter and that vile manager. He remembered the quiet, fierce dignity in her eyes when she refused his money.
"She had nothing," Damian murmured, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "She had absolutely nothing, and she threw away her only source of income to kneel on the floor for a child she didn't know."
May you like
"Yes, sir. The landlord is locking her out on Friday."
Damian closed the folder. A dangerous, possessive instinct—one he usually reserved for his empire—flared to life in his chest. "No, he isn't. Get the car ready for tomorrow morning."
