My finger hit the green icon, and I pressed the cold plastic to my ear.

“Is it done?” a voice asked.

It was my father’s voice, thin and trembling, filtered through static.

I closed my eyes, the sound of his breath cutting through me like a dull blade.

“It’s me, Dad,” I said.

Silence hung on the line for three long seconds.

“Emily?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Oh God. Emily, you need to run.”

“You sold me,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of the tears I had cried earlier. “You traded me for half a million euros.”

Matteo stood close to me, his chest almost touching my shoulder, his face tense as he listened.

“I had no choice,” my father sobbed. “They were going to kill me, Emily. They had me against the wall in the hotel room. I had to give them something.”

“You gave them your daughter,” I said.

“Listen to me,” he said, his breathing ragged. “It’s not just about the debt. I was set up.”

“By who?” I asked, gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white.