Chapter 1 Chapter 1

Lisa’s POV

I sat at my small wooden table, staring at the torn hem of a dress I was working on. The fabric felt rough under my fingers as I threaded the needle again, trying to fix the damage. The faint light from the old desk lamp flickered, making it even harder to see what I was doing. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. It was late, and my hands were sore from hours of sewing.

The room was quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. My little apartment was nothing fancy—just a bed, a table, and a tiny kitchenette crammed into one space. The paint on the walls was peeling, and the windows let in drafts of cold air at night, but it was home. At least, for now.

I glanced at the clock. It was almost 9 p.m., and I still had so much to do. My rent was due next week, and I didn’t have enough money to pay it yet. Between my part-time shifts at the café and my sewing work, I barely made enough to cover my bills. Still, I kept going. What choice did I have?

Sighing, I picked up the dress again. It belonged to Mrs. Carter, my landlord’s wife. She wasn’t paying me with money—just some bread and leftover soup, which she’d bring over when the dress was done. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. I had learned to take whatever help I could get.

As I worked, my phone buzzed on the table. I paused, frowning. It was late. Who could be calling me now? Wiping my hands on my jeans, I picked it up and saw Mia’s name flashing on the screen. Mia was my best friend and one of the only people I trusted. We hadn’t spoken in a few days, and I wondered if something had happened.

“Hello?” I said, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Lisa,” Mia’s voice came through, sharp and urgent. “You need to be careful.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. “What? Why? What’s going on?”

“I don’t have much time to explain,” she said quickly. “But you need to lock your doors and stay inside tonight. Don’t open the door for anyone. Promise me, Lisa.”

“Mia, you’re scaring me,” I said, my voice trembling. “What’s happening?”

“I’ll explain later,” she said. “Just promise me you won’t let anyone in. No matter what.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, my mind racing. “I promise.”

Before I could ask more questions, the call ended. I stared at the phone, confusion and fear bubbling inside me. Mia sounded serious—terrified, even. What could be so dangerous that she felt the need to warn me like that?

I shook my head, trying to push the fear aside. Maybe she was just being overly cautious. Mia always worried about me living alone in this part of the city. Still, her words lingered in my mind, making it hard to focus on my work.

The hours dragged by, and I finally decided to call it a night. I put away the dress and turned off the lamp, leaving the room in darkness except for the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Climbing into bed, I pulled the blanket over me and tried to relax. But Mia’s warning echoed in my head. Don’t open the door for anyone.

I lay there for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling. The ticking of the clock seemed louder in the silence, each second stretching longer than the last. I was just beginning to doze off when a loud knock shattered the quiet.

My eyes flew open, and my heart jumped. I sat up in bed, holding my breath. Maybe I had imagined it. But then the knock came again, harder this time, echoing through the tiny apartment.

I froze, fear gripping me. My mind raced. Who could it be at this hour? Mia’s warning flashed through my thoughts, making my stomach twist. I tiptoed to the door, careful not to make a sound, and peered through the peephole.

Three men stood outside. They were dressed in black suits, their faces hard and unreadable. One of them stepped forward and knocked again, the sound loud and commanding.

“Lisa Banner,” a deep voice called. “We need to talk.”

My blood ran cold. How did they know my name? Who were they? I pressed myself against the door, my heart pounding like a drum.

“Who is it?” I managed to whisper, my voice shaking.

“Open the door, Lisa,” the man said again. “It’s important.”

I didn’t move. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, to hide, to do anything but open that door. My hands trembled as I reached for my phone, ready to call for help. But before I could dial, the man outside spoke again.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” he said, his tone calm but dangerous. “Your choice.”

I didn’t reply. My fingers hovered over the screen of my phone, but they felt frozen. The silence stretched for a moment, and then the door burst open.

The chain snapped like it was made of paper, and the door flew inward, slamming against the wall. I stumbled backward, my chest tight with fear. The three men stepped inside, their movements calm and purposeful. I backed away until my legs hit the edge of the table.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I demanded, my voice trembling.

The man in the middle stepped forward. He was taller than the others, with broad shoulders and sharp gray eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. His dark hair was slicked back neatly, and his suit looked expensive—like everything about him was carefully calculated.

“Lisa Banner,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head, unable to find my voice.

“I’m Damien Paulo,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Damien Paulo. I had heard that name before—everyone had. He was the most dangerous man in the city, the mafia lord who controlled half the underground world. People whispered his name in fear, and now he was standing in my apartment.

“W-why are you here?” I stammered, my knees feeling weak.

Damien’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but his eyes remained cold. “You owe me.”

My heart stopped. “What? No, I don’t. I don’t even know you!”

“Oh, but you do,” he said, stepping closer. “And whether you realize it or not, you’re about to learn just how much you owe me.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m just a seamstress. I don’t owe you anything.”

Damien tilted his head, studying me like I was some sort of puzzle. “You worked on a dress for a woman named Claudia, didn’t you?”

I blinked, confused. Claudia? The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it right away. Then it hit me. Claudia was one of my clients—a rich woman who had hired me to alter a dress for her last month. She’d been very particular about the design, but I didn’t think much of it at the time.

“Yes,” I admitted cautiously. “But that was just work. She hired me to—”

“To smuggle something,” Damien interrupted, his voice hardening. “She used your work as a cover to move stolen property across the city.”

My jaw dropped. “What? No! I didn’t know anything about that!”

“You expect me to believe that?” he asked, his sharp gaze never leaving mine. “You handled the package yourself.”

“I thought it was just a dress!” I protested, tears stinging my eyes. “I didn’t know there was anything hidden inside!”

Damien stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gestured to the men behind him. One of them stepped forward and unzipped a black duffel bag. Inside was a glittering necklace that looked like it belonged in a museum.

“This,” Damien said, holding up the necklace, “is worth more than your entire life, Lisa. And Claudia used you to move it.”

I felt like the floor had been ripped out from under me. This couldn’t be happening.

“I don’t have anything to do with this,” I said weakly. “Please, you have to believe me.”

Damien stepped closer, his towering presence making me feel small and helpless. “Whether you knew or not doesn’t matter,” he said coldly. “What matters is that you’re involved now. And you’re going to help me fix this.”

“How?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Damien smirked again, his gray eyes gleaming. “You’ll find Claudia for me. And until you do, you’re mine.”