Bound by Honor *COMPLETED*

Prologue

I never would have thought that we wouldn't have any money left...

The words echoed in my mind as I zoned out, staring blankly at the man in front of me. His mouth was moving, but I had long stopped listening to the barrage of insults he was throwing my way. Another angry customer.

Another reminder of how far we had fallen.

"Are you even listening to me?" His voice finally cut through the fog. I blinked, refocusing on his face—red with frustration, his eyes burning with indignation. "Sir, if you're just going to keep yelling, please leave," I said, my voice even but tired. I didn't have the energy for this today.

"How dare you tell me to leave? I've been coming here for nine years, and you're telling me to get out?!" I simply nodded and stepped aside, my focus shifting to the next customer in line. I could still hear the angry man ranting behind me, but I blocked him out as much as possible. Just as I started helping the next person, I heard footsteps and felt a familiar presence beside me. Elio. "Sir," my brother's voice was low and calm, yet there was a sharp edge to it, "Can you tell me what the problem is?"

The man turned, still fuming. "The problem is this bit—" He never got to finish his sentence. Elio's hand shot out, gripping the man's shirt in a tight fist. The man's face drained of color as he realized just how much trouble he was in. "Finish your sentence," Elio demanded, his voice as icy as his gaze. The man's eyes darted between us, and then he stammered, "I-I am so sorry." His voice was now nothing but a quiver, full of regret and fear. I glanced at Elio, who looked at me before giving the man one last hard look before releasing him. He stumbled backward, mumbling another apology as he practically fled the bakery.

I sighed, turning back to the customer I had been helping, my hands moving automatically. "What can I get for you today?"

The woman placed a small cake on the counter and asked for a name to be written on it. I quickly added the name, boxed it up, and handed it back to her. "That'll be $40," I said, hoping the interaction would be quick.

"Forty dollars? For this tiny cake? I'll go somewhere else," she snapped, turning on her heel and storming out. I rolled my eyes. "Well, there goes another customer," I muttered, my shoulders sagging in defeat. "We haven't sold anything all day." "Don't say that, Lele," Elio said, trying to stay optimistic, though I could hear the doubt creeping into his voice. "Someone will come." "When?!" I snapped, my frustration spilling out. "We close in thirty minutes, and we haven't made a single sale in three days. We're not going to make enough to pay the bills." "We will," Elio said, his voice softer now, trying to calm me down. I scoffed. "Not here. Not unless you or I do something outside of this place because we both know they won't." He went quiet. He knew who I meant: our parents. They had long since stopped caring about the bakery. The dream that had once fueled this place had turned to ashes in their hands, suffocated by their addictions and shady dealings. "Don't say that," Elio muttered, though even he didn't sound convinced. "Why the hell not?" I said, the bitterness rising in my throat. "They're either too high or too busy dealing drugs to care about this damn bakery."

I stormed off toward the back, ripping off my pink apron and tossing it on the counter. Elio followed behind, talking about something I couldn't bring myself to care about. Just as I was about to grab my purse and head out, the front doorbell rang. Elio gave me a small smile while walking out to the customer. After a while, he comes back, "Guess who just sold something." I turned, eyes narrowing as he waved the receipt in the air. Snatching it from his hand, I glanced at the total.

"For a damn cake pop," I muttered, shaking my head. "Great. We'll be rich." The clock on the wall ticked down, and I sighed. "Ten minutes left. I'll start cleaning." It took another half-hour to get the place cleaned up. As usual, Elio walked me to my car, always the protective older brother. He opened the door to my beat-up Volkswagen Bug, giving me a mock-serious look. "Get home safe. And don't speed," he said, leaning against the door. "When have I ever sped?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed, shaking his head as he walked to his motorcycle. Sometimes it didn't make sense for us to drive separately when we lived in the same house, but we had different shifts. I opened in the morning, while he came in midday.

As I pulled into the driveway, I spotted my mother sitting on the front steps, cigarette smoke curling up into the dimming sky. Her face was haggard, with more lines and shadows than I remembered. She stood as soon as she saw me, starting toward the car. I sighed, already bracing myself for whatever favor she was about to ask. I'd learned my lesson after the last time I agreed to one of her errands. Delivering drugs for her had landed me in jail, and that arrest still sat like a dark stain on my record.

I stepped out of the car, clutching my bag to my side as she approached. "Figlia, devi andare a parlare con tuo padre," she said, her voice sharp.

"Why?" I asked, but her glare silenced any further questions. "Girl, stop back-talking me and do what I tell you," she snapped, her patience already thin.

I trudged into the house, knocking on my father's office door. His gruff voice called me in, and I pushed the door open to find him sitting at his desk, the room smelling faintly of smoke and whiskey. "Come in and sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. I sank into the seat, feeling the weight of his stare as I fidgeted with my hands. "You needed to see me?" He nodded slowly. "Yes. As you know, we're low on money. And since you owe me a favor, it's time for you to pay up."

I blinked, confused. "What favor?" "Don't question me, child. Just do as you're told." His voice was firm, and I swallowed, the familiar feeling of dread curling in my stomach. "Yes, sir," I mumbled, looking down at my hands. "Go get dressed in something nice. We have a guest coming in thirty minutes." He waved me off, dismissing me without another word.

I left the office in a daze, heading to my room and rifling through my closet until I found a pink floral dress. As I applied makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes, I heard the door open behind me. Elio flopped onto my bed, scrolling through his phone. "What are you getting all dressed up for?" he asked without looking up. "Dad said we have a guest coming over," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "Apparently, I owe him a favor." Elio frowned, glancing up. "What kind of favor?" "I don't know," I admitted. My father had always found ways to keep me under his thumb, using favors as leverage to get me to do his bidding. I was just another pawn in his life, unlike Elio, who was the son they actually wanted.

Elio and I headed downstairs, and as we reached the bottom, I noticed a man standing in the living room. He was tall, dressed in a pristine black suit, and his presence commanded attention. My father stood beside him, his face lighting up when he saw us. "Elena, come say hello to Luca."

Luca. The name felt foreign on my tongue, but as I stepped closer and saw his face, my breath caught. He was handsome, strikingly so, with sharp features and ocean-blue eyes that contrasted with the thin scar under his left eye. There was something dangerous about him, but also something magnetic.

"Well, hello, Elena," he said, his voice smooth and controlled.

This was no ordinary guest. And this was no ordinary favor.

My world was about to change forever.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Elena's dress: