Silas Vance sat in the back booth of a dive bar, nursing a whiskey and celebrating the freeze on his niece’s bank accounts. He was already spending the settlement money in his head.
The booth darkened.
Silas looked up to see William Croft blocking the light. William wasn’t wearing a suit; he was dressed in dark, nondescript clothing, his face a mask of cold, terrifying calm.
“Mr. Croft,” Silas stammered, trying to slide out of the booth. “I–my lawyer said–“
“Sit down,” William said. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.
William slid a single sheet of paper across the sticky table. It wasn’t a counter-suit. It was a transfer deed from the *Emerald Sands Casino*.
“I had a chat with the owners of the Sands this morning,” William said, his voice devoid of emotion. “It seems you owe them two hundred thousand dollars. They were preparing to break your legs.”
Silas paled, staring at the document.
“I bought your debt, Silas,” William whispered, leaning in. “I own you. Every bad bet, every marker, every mistake. It’s all mine now.”
“What… what do you want?” Silas choked out.
“You will drop the lawsuit against Victoria immediately,” William ordered. “You will issue a public apology stating that the claim was a clerical error. You will unfreeze her assets by close of business today.”
“And the debt?”
“If you go near my wife or my child again,” William stood up, towering over him, “I will call in the debt. And I won’t ask for money.”
William walked out of the bar without looking back. He pulled out his phone and deleted the draft text to Victoria telling her he had fixed it. She didn’t need to know. He didn’t want gratitude; he just wanted her safe.