Chapter 1

The cheap fluorescent lights of the warehouse buzzed over my head.

Another night shift, another stack of boxes to scan and sort.

My back ached, a dull throb that never really went away.

I used to dream of designing buildings, skyscrapers that touched the clouds.

Now, I just dreamed of sleep.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

A number I didn't recognize, but I had a sick feeling I knew who it was.

"Mr. Miller?" a smooth, cold voice said.

"This is Agent Davies, from the facility."

My heart sank.

"Yes?"

"There's an outstanding balance for Mrs. Vance's continued care and legal representation. A rather urgent one, I'm afraid."

Sera, my wife.

Or so I believed.

She was in a private place, a "rehabilitation and legal negotiation facility," they called it.

Her tech startup had gone bad, real bad.

Dangerous partners, massive debts.

This facility was keeping her out of public scandal, out of a federal prison.

That's what they told me.

That's what I paid for.

"I just sent a payment last week," I said, my voice tired.

I'd sold my parents' house for this.

Their heirlooms, things I swore I'd keep forever.

All gone.

I worked three jobs: this warehouse, daytime deliveries, weekend security.

Anything to keep Sera safe.

"Yes, we received that. This is a new development. An unforeseen legal challenge. If the funds aren't transferred by morning, we may have to... re-evaluate Mrs. Vance's placement."

The threat hung in the air.

Re-evaluate meant a state prison.

Brutal.

Public.

Everything they, and Sera through them, had terrified me with.

"How much?" I asked, already knowing I didn't have it.

He named a figure that made my stomach clench.

"I... I don't have that right now."

"I understand this is difficult, Mr. Miller," Davies said, his voice anything but understanding.

"But the consequences for Mrs. Vance are severe. We're trying to protect her."

My seven-year-old son, Leo, sometimes saw me come home, my face gray with exhaustion.

He'd pat my arm, his small hand surprisingly steady.

"It's okay, Dad. We'll be okay."

He was too young to understand the details, but he felt the weight in our small apartment.

The weight of Sera's absence, the weight of my endless work.

"I'll see what I can do," I mumbled, my mind racing.

There was nothing left to sell.

No one left to borrow from, not without crippling interest.

"You have until 8 AM, Mr. Miller."

The line went dead.

I leaned against a cold metal shelf, the boxes blurring before my eyes.

This was the 99th time, or close enough.

Each demand was an emergency, each payment the one that would finally fix things.

It never did.

I was at the edge.

And they were still pushing.