Then, my phone buzzed in my clutch bag.

It was a text from Marcus: *You think you’re safe with him? Ask your father what he owes the Riccis.*

My breath caught in my throat.

I looked up from the glowing screen and stared at the black folder on the table.

My hand shook as I reached out to open the cover.

I flipped the leather cover open.

Inside lay a stack of cream-colored paper, bound by a heavy brass clip.

The first page was a spreadsheet of numbers, dated five years ago.

At the bottom of the page, my father’s signature was written in his familiar, shaky cursive.

I turned the page and found another document, this one bearing the official seal of Ricci Enterprises.

The total figure at the end of the ledger made my stomach turn.

It was a debt of three million dollars.

Beneath the financial statements was a photocopied deed to my family’s house in the suburbs.

My father had put up everything we owned as collateral to Damiano’s family.

I closed the folder, my chest tightening as the realization settled in.