The Truth

Ch.2: Advance Offer

It had been three weeks since Aiden's death, and three weeks since I'd found myself officially unemployed. Willow had insisted I stay at her place, but I couldn't bring myself to accept her offer. Besides, she had to return to New Zealand for some family matters, and the last thing I wanted was to be someone else's burden.

So, here I was, alone in my small apartment, trying to figure out how to piece my life back together. I managed to find a job as a waitress, but it didn't pay nearly as much as my previous gig as a chef. The hours were long, the pay was lousy, and every day felt like a reminder of how far I'd fallen. But worst of all, I missed Aiden.

"You got Table 9's order wrong again?" one of my coworkers said, her voice dripping with irritation. She looked every bit like the stereotypical Karen from those viral social media posts—complete with the judgmental glare.

"It won't happen again," I mumbled, trying to sound polite, though I could feel the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She just scoffed and turned her attention elsewhere, and I silently thanked whatever higher power might be listening that I'd dodged a lecture.

But it didn't make me feel any better. If anything, it just made everything worse. I wasn't cut out for this job—hell, I wasn't cut out for any of this. The endless cycle of pretending everything was fine, of forcing myself to go through the motions, was exhausting. And the constant reminders of how much I'd lost were like salt in the wound.

As I wiped down a table, my thoughts drifted back to Aiden. He'd always been the one to push me, to tell me I could do better, be better. But now that he was gone, I felt like I was floating, directionless and alone.

I sighed, tossing the rag onto the table in frustration. This wasn't me. I wasn't supposed to be stuck in a dead-end job, barely scraping by. I was supposed to be a chef, to create something beautiful out of chaos. But instead, here I was, stuck in my own personal hell.

As I tried to shake off the negativity, I glanced at the clock. Only three more hours until my shift ended. I could do this. I had to.

But even as I forced myself to keep going, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was spiraling, that each day was just another step closer to losing myself completely.

Coming back from a long shift felt like the only miracle in my life at this point. My feet ached, my head pounded, and all I wanted was to collapse onto my bed and forget about the world for a few hours. But as I walked towards my apartment building, I noticed three men in black suits standing by the entrance, waiting for me. My stomach dropped.

"Ms. Angelica?" one of them asked as I approached, his tone formal, almost polite.

"Yes," I replied, my voice wavering slightly. My mind raced, trying to figure out who they were and what they wanted.

"We're here on behalf of Mr. Jason Reynolds," the man continued, and my heart skipped a beat. Jason Reynolds—the name alone sent a chill down my spine. He was the kind of man who made you uneasy just by hearing about him, let alone being confronted by his men. He was the one Aiden owed money to. A lot of money.

"Look, I... I don't know what you think I can do," I stammered, already dreading where this conversation was heading.

"Your brother's debt has been transferred to you, Ms. Angelica," the man said, his tone as cold as ice. "It's a significant amount, and Mr. Reynolds expects it to be repaid."

I felt like the ground was shifting beneath my feet. "I don't have that kind of money," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"We understand your current financial situation," he replied, as if this was just another business transaction. "However, failure to repay the debt will result in the forfeiture of your apartment and any other assets you may have."

Panic clawed at my throat. This apartment was all I had left. Losing it would mean losing everything. "You can't just take my apartment," I protested, though deep down I knew they could, and they would.

"Mr. Reynolds is willing to discuss alternative arrangements," the man said, almost as if he'd expected my reaction. "He's offering you an advance, a way to settle this without losing your home."

I could already tell what that "advance" would cost me. It wouldn't be money—it would be my pride, my dignity, maybe even more than that. But the idea of losing my apartment, of being out on the street, terrified me.

"I'm not interested," I said, forcing the words out, even though I could feel my resolve weakening. I didn't want to be in debt to Jason Reynolds any more than I already was.

The man's expression didn't change. "It's a generous offer," he said, his voice smooth, almost coaxing. "You should consider it carefully. Refusing could make things... more difficult for you."

The threat hung in the air between us, unspoken but clear as day. I looked down at the ground, feeling trapped, suffocated by the situation Aiden had left me in. I loved my brother, but I couldn't help but feel a flicker of anger at him for putting me in this position.

I was about to refuse again, but the reality of my situation hit me like a ton of bricks. If I lost the apartment, I'd have nothing. No job could save me from that. And with Aiden gone, there was no one left to help me.

Finally, I looked up at the man, my voice hollow as I said, "Fine. I'll take the deal."

"Smart choice," he replied, nodding as if I'd made the only logical decision. "Mr. Reynolds will be in touch to discuss the details."

As they turned to leave, I stood there, feeling like I'd just signed away a piece of my soul. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, but right now, it was the only choice I had.