Chapter One
The snowstorm howled around Vanessa as she gripped the wheel of her Mustang, the car cutting a lone path through the white blur. The windshield wipers struggled against the thick, swirling snow, but the road ahead remained ghostly. Vanessa's breath fogged up the windows, adding to the claustrophobic haze that pressed in on her.
She was dressed in a sleek black leather jacket with a faux fur collar, its practicality overshadowed by the cold. Beneath it, she wore a fitted turtleneck sweater and dark jeans, her attire both practical and stylish. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, with strands escaping to frame her face. With high cheekbones, full lips, and a confident yet weary expression, Vanessa bore a striking resemblance to a goddess. Her features were both expressive and reflective of the strength and vulnerability within.
"Three more miles. Just three more miles," Vanessa murmured, nervously tapping the steering wheel. She maneuvered closer to the dark city she never thought she'd return to. Unfortunately, she needed to come back to sort out some issues and collect an old debt. Old debt? Yes. That's exactly what she'd call it. This old debt defined her twenty-five years, and now the devil had come to claim it.
Her pager lay on the passenger seat, the voicemail from the lawyer still echoing in her mind: "Your mother has passed away. She left you her brownstone in Bed-Stuy." The words had seemed surreal, a distant echo from a past she thought she'd left behind. Vanessa had almost ignored it, but the voicemail's timing had coincided with the violent turn her life had taken.
Her thoughts churned with anger and resentment. The voicemail had been a lifeline but came from the one person who had never shown her any warmth or care. Her mother had been distant and cold, more interested in her own troubles than in the daughter she had abandoned. Vanessa had long given up hope of reconciling with her, and now she was being pulled back into a life she'd escaped.
The bitterness of being summoned by a woman who had left her to fend for herself weighed heavily on Vanessa. The brownstone felt more like a prison than a legacy-a stark reminder of a past she'd fought so hard to leave behind. Brooklyn had been a place of pain and neglect, and returning there felt like a cruel twist of fate.
As Vanessa navigated the snowstorm, her mind drifted back to the violent confrontation that had set her on this desperate path. The memory surfaced with sharp clarity, like a jagged piece of glass cutting through the fog of her thoughts.
Flashback
Late at night, Vanessa had just returned to her small, dingy apartment after a grueling shift. Her showgirl costume, now discarded, left a trail of sequins on the floor. Exhausted, she moved to the kitchen, searching for solace in a glass of wine.
A sudden, forceful knock on the door startled her. Her heart sank as she saw Ricky standing in the hallway, his face a mask of fury. She tried to close the door, but he shoved it open, rough hands pushing her back.
"Where is it?" he demanded, his voice like gravel. "I know you took it."
Vanessa's mind raced. She had no idea what he was talking about. "I don't know what you mean." she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Ricky's eyes narrowed. "Cut the crap, Vanessa. I know you're hiding it. You think you can just waltz around with something that belongs to me?"
