Chapter 4 - The Knock on the Door
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The morning light filtering through the cracked blinds of Nevaeh’s apartment was a harsh shade of gray.
She hadn't slept. She had spent the night pacing the worn linoleum floor, checking the deadbolt every twenty minutes. She lived in a crumbling building on the South Side, sharing a cramped two-bedroom unit with her mother, who was currently hooked up to an oxygen machine in the next room.
The eighty-four thousand dollars in medical debt sat on the kitchen counter in a stack of threatening manila envelopes. Losing the job at Laura meant they would be evicted by the end of the month.
At 7:00 AM, a sharp, authoritative knock echoed through the tiny apartment.
Nevaeh froze. She grabbed a heavy iron skillet from the stovetop, her heart hammering against her ribs, and crept toward the door. She looked through the scratched peephole.
Standing in her dingy, poorly lit hallway was Leandro Perry.
He wore a dark navy suit this morning, looking entirely out of place against the peeling wallpaper of her building. Two massive men in dark overcoats stood at the top of the stairwell, effectively blocking any escape.
Nevaeh unlocked the door, keeping the chain engaged, and opened it a fraction.
“If you’re here to kill me, you’re going to have to do it quietly,” Nevaeh whispered fiercely. “My mother is sleeping.”
Leandro’s dark eyes flickered with genuine amusement. He held up a thick manila folder. It was her employment file from the restaurant.
“I didn't come to kill you, Miss Brown,” Leandro said, his voice smooth and incredibly calm. “I came to offer you a job.”
Nevaeh stared at him. “A job.”
“May I come in?”
She looked at the men on the stairs. She looked at the iron skillet in her hand. Realizing she had absolutely no choice, she unlatched the chain and stepped back.
Leandro walked into her tiny kitchen. He seemed to take up all the oxygen in the room. He didn't look at the peeling paint or the rusted sink with disdain. He looked at the stack of medical bills on the counter.
“You have eighty-four thousand dollars in debt,” Leandro stated, placing her file on the table. “And you just lost your primary source of income.”
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“Thanks to your sister,” Nevaeh shot back, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.
“My sister is an undisciplined liability,” Leandro corrected softly. “Which brings me to my offer.”
