Angela stood in the flickering light of the hospital vending machine, gripping a half empty paper cup of stale coffee. Her fingers trembled, not from the caffeine, but from the silence. It was always quiet this time of night, when the rest of the world was sleeping, and she was wide awake wondering how to keep her brother alive.
The nurse had just walked out of Jace's room. Her face was kind, but tired. "He had another seizure," she had said gently. "But we managed it. He's stable, for now."
For now. Those two words were hell.
She stared at the printout of the new bills in her hand, the ink still fresh and mocking. Surgery. Treatment. Medication. All of it impossible. And no insurance. They'd long used up everything after their parents died. Alexander, her older sister, was working triple shifts just to cover rent. Angela was juggling two jobs that barely paid above minimum wage.
None of it was enough. Not even close.
Her hands tightened around the paper as she turned down the hallway, footsteps echoing too loud in the sterile corridor. It felt like drowning in slow motion.
And then came the voice.
"You look like someone with nothing left to lose."
Angela stopped in her tracks. A man stood by the corridor's shadowed window, his black coat blending into the night behind him. He wasn't a doctor. Too sharp. Too still.
She said nothing.
He pushed off the wall slowly, the overhead lights catching the edge of a cruel smile. "Angela, isn't it?"
Her heart dropped. "Who are you?"
He didn't answer right away. Just handed her a small, black card. No logo. No number. Just an address. Italian. She couldn't pronounce it.
"I represent someone who can help your brother," he said. "But help always has a cost."
Angela's fingers hovered over the card. "I'm not selling myself."
He laughed. "No one said anything about that. Not in the way you think. We need someone smart. Innocent. Disposable. You fit all three."
Her jaw clenched. "What do you want?"
"There's a man. Head of the De Luca empire in southern Italy. Rich. Dangerous. Untouchable. We want you to get close to him. Charm him. Make him trust you."
"And then?"
"You'll find out. If you survive."
Angela took a step back. "I can't—"
"Your brother is dying, Angela," the man interrupted smoothly. "Your sister's exhausted. And you're out of options. Think about it. We're not asking you to kill anyone. Just smile. Be sweet. Take your chance."
He started to walk away but paused.
"Just don't fall for him. That's where girls like you get burned."
That night, Angela couldn't stop thinking.
Could she really go through with this? Could she pull it off? And how had the man been able to get information about her?
The thought alone made her tremble.
This wasn't her world. She didn't lie, didn't scheme, and she definitely didn't walk into the arms of dangerous men with secrets darker than night. But right now, she was desperate. Desperate enough to step into the lion's den if it meant saving her brother.
Even if it meant risking everything.
She lay still in the silence, staring at the cracked ceiling of their apartment, her mind spinning. No one had ever questioned her beauty, it always drew attention, sometimes unwanted. But now, she would use it as a weapon. A tool.
If that's what it took, so be it.
Her eyes shifted to the small bed beside hers, where Jace lay curled up under a thin blanket, his breathing shallow but steady. Just a boy. Just a child who didn't deserve any of this.
Angela's heart clenched.
She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
"I'll do this," she whispered, more to herself than anyone. "For you."
No matter the cost.
The next morning, Angela stood outside a nondescript stone building, wedged tightly between two butcher shops that reeked of blood and old grease. The address on the card had led her here, straight into the underbelly of the city.
She hesitated only for a second before pushing open the worn metal door. A small camera above blinked red, scanning her. With a soft click, the door unlocked.
Inside, the air was stale and thick with damp. The walls peeled from age, but the man waiting behind the desk looked out of place, immaculate suit, slicked back hair, and a face that hadn't smiled in years. He didn't rise when she entered.
Angela kept her expression flat. This wasn't the time for small talk.
"I'm here," she said sharply. "Now explain what exactly you need me to do."
His lips curved into a slow, unreadable smirk. "Simple. Get close to him. Gain his trust. Collect everything, names, movements, weaknesses. And report back to us. That's it."
She frowned. "That's not exactly a plan. How do you expect me to get close to a man like that? He's surrounded by bodyguards and secrets."
Without a word, he slid a folder and a new identity across the desk, passport, credentials, and a name typed in bold on the first page.
Matteo De Luca.
Angela's breath caught in her throat.
Even in a photo, he radiated power. Late thirties. Steel-blue eyes. Chiseled jaw. Sinister calm. The kind of man who could command a room, or silence it with a look. A man whispered about in back alleys and underground circles.
Cold. Dangerous. Untouchable.
"He hosts private charity events every month," the man continued, voice like gravel. "Private Invitation only. We control one of the catering companies. You'll be hired as a server, That's your in."
Angela flipped through the documents again, heart hammering.
"And if he doesn't notice me?"
"He will," the man said, voice cool and certain. "He notices everything."
Angela exhaled slowly. "Fine."
She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her cold.
"One more thing."
She glanced back, eyes narrowing.
"No betrayal," he said, tone darkening. "And absolutely no falling in love. You do either... and you won't survive the fallout."
The threat lingered in the air like smoke.
Angela nodded once, her jaw tight. "Understood."
She left without another word, her footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. Outside, the sun had risen, but the warmth didn't reach her. She made her way straight back to the hospital.
Back to Jace. Back to the reason she was about to walk into hell.