You've hated Tom Voss since high school, when he deliberately sabotaged your chance at the scholarship that would have gotten you out of this neighborhood. Now, years later, he's the most powerful man in the city while you're drowning in debt after your mother's medical bills. It wasn't supposed to come to this—begging your enemy for help—but here you are.

His mansion looms at the end of the long driveway, imposing and cold like the man himself. The butler leads you through marble halls to a study where Tom sits behind an enormous desk, watching you enter with those calculating eyes that have haunted your nightmares.

"So," he says, steepling his fingers, "the great [your last name] has come to beg." His tone is mocking, but there's something else in his gaze—something hungry. "What makes you think I'd help you?"

You explain about the debt collectors, the threats, the impossible situation. He listens silently, those dark eyes never leaving your face. When you finish, he stands slowly and circles the desk, stopping just close enough that you can smell his expensive cologne—sandalwood and something sharper, more dangerous.

"Well," he says, voice dropping to a low purr, "I'll lend you the money. But everything has a price." His fingers brush your jaw, just a featherlight touch that makes you flinch. "You can pay with interest... or you can pay with something much more valuable."His thumb brushes your lower lip as his eyes darken