Chapter 4 Debt

It was already late when she finally got home. She had to spend extra hours at the library just to use a computer for her thesis since her laptop had broken down, and she couldn't afford to get it fixed yet.

As she approached their house, her heart pounded at the sight of two black vans parked outside. Several men-tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating an intimidating presence-stood near the gate, looking like they belonged in a crime syndicate. A heavy sense of unease settled in her chest, making her quicken her pace. Her first thought was of her father.

"E-Excuse me... I need to pass," she said hesitantly to one of the men blocking the entrance.

The man furrowed his brows, glancing at her with cold scrutiny. She swallowed hard, forcing a nervous smile. "I-I live here, FYI..." she added awkwardly.

The man stepped aside, allowing her through. The moment she entered the house, her breath caught in her throat.

Her father was kneeling on the floor, his face battered-one eye swollen shut, his lip split, and blood dripping from his nose.

Sitting in front of him was an older man dressed in an elegant suit, a fedora perched on his head. His legs were crossed, and he twirled a sleek cane with a dragon's head as its handle. A cigar rested between his lips, unlit. His sharp features and aristocratic nose made him look distinctly Italian. Behind him stood four towering men, their physiques reminiscent of nightclub bouncers, veins bulging from their arms and necks even without flexing.

Jessa swallowed hard and took slow, cautious steps toward her father, whose eyes brimmed with tears upon seeing her.

Her own vision blurred with unshed tears.

"P-Papa..." she whispered.

The old man's gaze shifted to her, appraising her like a prized possession. "You have a very lovely daughter, Chongson," he remarked, his voice smooth yet menacing.

Jessa immediately dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms protectively around her father.

"P-Pa, w-who are these people?" she asked, though her sharp eyes remained on the older man.

The stranger leaned back in his seat, exuding an air of absolute control. "I am Guiller, hija. A friend of your father's."

She shot him a glare. "What do you want from him?" she demanded.

Guiller smiled, revealing a gold tooth. "Your father owes me a debt," he said, his tone eerily gentle-like an adult explaining something to a naïve child.

Her stomach twisted in dread as she turned to her father, who lowered his head in shame.

"You have a debt, Pa?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt her strength drain from her body when he gave a small, defeated nod.

"H-How much?" she forced herself to ask.

"Ten million. Not including the interest," Guiller answered for him.

Jessa's eyes widened in shock.

"Ten million?!" she practically screamed.

The pity she had felt for her father quickly morphed into frustration. Ten million pesos? And that didn't even include the interest? She didn't even want to imagine how much that would be. Judging by the kind of people they were dealing with, the interest alone might double the original amount.

"Where did you even spend that much money, Pa?" Her voice rose involuntarily.

"I-I invested it," her father admitted, still unable to meet her gaze.

"Invested? Where?!"

Jessa's knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor, already dreading the answer.

"In OrangeCoin.co,. The same investment your uncle Albert joined. B-But it collapsed... all the money was lost."

She shut her eyes tightly, her hands balling into fists.

Just last month, there had been news of a major pyramiding scam involving OrangeCoin.co. The mastermind? Her so-called godfather, uncle Albert. He had since gone into hiding after being bombarded with lawsuits from enraged investors.

And now, she realized-her father had been one of the victims.

A deep ache settled in her chest.

"Pa... why?" she whispered in anguish, looking at him with betrayal in her eyes. "Why did you fall for Uncle Albert's scheme? I warned you, didn't I?" she cried, her voice breaking.

Her father remained silent, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

Jessa wanted to feel sorry for him, but she couldn't.

She was furious.

Her father had always been easily fooled-lured in by flashy promises, making reckless decisions that always led to disaster. And now, his impulsiveness had plunged them into an unimaginable crisis.

Where the hell were they supposed to get ten million pesos?

They had no savings left. Their small hardware store barely made enough to cover daily expenses and bills-and sometimes, it wasn't even enough.

Mr. Guiller let out a sigh, breaking the suffocating silence.

"If your father cannot repay his debt..." His voice was calm, almost indifferent. "Then I will have no choice but to collect his internal organs instead."

Jessa's blood ran cold.

Her breath hitched as the weight of his words sank in.

Did they think her father was some animal-something they could butcher for parts?

"W-We'll pay," she blurted out, even as panic clawed at her chest. In her mind, she was already scrambling for ways to borrow money.

Mr. Guiller smirked. "Good," he said approvingly. "I'm giving you one week."

Jessa's jaw nearly dropped.

One week?!

Where the hell was she supposed to get ten million pesos in seven days?

"And don't even think about running," he warned. "I don't take betrayal lightly."

With that, he stood up, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a sleek black business card and handed it to her.

"Call me when you have the money. One week, hija. That's all the time I can spare you."

Jessa numbly accepted the card.

It was glossy and black, with his name written in elegant gold lettering.

Guiller Moretti

CEO-President of Black Enterprise

His contact number and address were also listed.

Her lips curled into a bitter smirk when she noticed something absurd-he even had an official Facebook page.

What kind of mafia boss makes a Facebook page?

She barely registered their movements as they began to file out of the house.

At the door, Mr. Guiller paused, turning back to her with an unreadable expression.

"I also have a proposal for you," he said, adjusting his fedora. "I can offer you a job as well..."

And with that, he disappeared into the night.