Chapter 4 A Price Too Heavy

Elena shot a look at her boss, Elvano-if you could even call it a "look." Really, it was more like a tired glance, the kind you give when sleep's been dodging you for days. She looked so weighed down, you'd think she was carrying bricks in her pockets. Surprise? Forget it. She didn't even blink at him suddenly popping up next to her. There was no curiosity there, just that zoned-out, "get me outta here" vibe that stretched the space between them into something almost physical.

Elvano, meanwhile, had that whole "I'm-the-boss" thing going on-his eyes sharp, dark, kinda suspicious, narrowing just a bit. He wasn't used to people ignoring him. Especially not Elena. Her whole "couldn't care less" attitude? Oof. Bruised his ego, for sure. You could almost see the annoyance simmering under his skin, and honestly, he didn't know what to do with it.

Earlier, he'd rolled up with Natasha-his girlfriend, the one who clings like Saran wrap. He wasn't hunting for anyone, just scanning for an empty table. But then, boom, right through the big café window, he spotted Elena. She was slumped in the corner, half her face buried in her hands, staring into the abyss like she was trying to telepathically order a coffee or something. She looked completely checked out, as if her brain had left the building.

That's when Elvano's mouth curled into this lopsided grin, somewhere between, "Ha, look at her," and, "What's her deal?" Almost like he couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or poke at her misery.

"Hey, let's go over there for a sec, babe," he murmured, giving Natasha's hand this gentle little squeeze that felt more staged than sweet.

"Where?" Natasha chirped, but she was already moving with him, still latched onto his arm like she'd never let go.

"Just come on. Won't take long," Elvano tossed back, distracted, his fingers drumming on her hand like he was playing a tune only he could hear. But his attention? Glued to Elena.

A couple of seconds later, boom-they're right up at Elena's table. Elvano's bracing himself for... something, anything-a twitch, a snarl, maybe the classic deer-in-headlights look. Nope. Elena's just sitting there, face so blank you'd think she was waiting for her coffee order, not her boss' wrath. If he was expecting drama, he got static.

And wow, did that mess with his head. The irritation he'd been swallowing all morning? Yeah, it snapped. Like, immediate blood-pressure spike. Her lack of reaction was a slap in the face, louder than any sassy comeback.

Seriously? Why isn't she even a little shocked? After that circus act she pulled this morning, she should be squirming. He's standing there, basically vibrating with frustration, totally missing the puffy eyes (dead giveaway she's running on fumes and probably cried in the bathroom or something).

Flashback to this morning: Elena bumps into him-classic. Then, outta nowhere, she bails on their meeting, just calls him up with a lame excuse. But the kicker? She rings the client herself and shifts the whole appointment, like she's the boss. Didn't even bother checking with him. The audacity! Elvano can't believe it. She's acting like she owns the place. If that's not insubordination, what is? He's fuming, honestly.

Then Elena looks up, all lazy and chill, and drops, "What's going on, El?" Like she's asking about the weather, not his entire authority being trampled on.

Yeah, no way he's letting this slide. It's not even about the damn meeting anymore. It's about her acting like his opinion doesn't matter. Meanwhile, Elena? She's already moved on. In her head, she did her penance-called the client, fixed the mess, crisis averted. Client's happy, end of story, right? Why's Elvano still making it a thing? She just can't see the problem, and that's probably the most infuriating part for him.

"Skipping work and chilling here, huh?" Elvano shot out, sarcasm oozing from every syllable. Yeah, the smirk was there, but honestly? That was just him trying to cover up how pissed he actually was.

"Look, El, if it's work talk you want, save it for the office. I'm out." Elena didn't even try to sugarcoat it, standing up fast, every move pretty much screaming she'd rather be anywhere else. The tension? You could almost taste it, her coldness just making Elvano boil even more.

"And who's that, babe?" Natasha piped up, eyeing Elena with the sort of nosiness that comes built-in with expensive mascara.

"Nobody, miss. Just his employee. Anyway, I'll be on my way," Elena threw back, polite but also sounding like she'd rather eat glass than stick around. She didn't even glance back as she bailed.

Elvano just stood there, rooted to the spot, staring after her. Honestly, he looked like someone had just unplugged his brain-confused, mad, not sure which way was up.

What the hell is going on? Why's she acting like this? This was not how these things were supposed to go, at least not in his head. It chewed at him, that lack of fear or even basic guilt from Elena. If anything, she'd just lit a fire under his mood.

"Come on, babe, let's sit over there!" Natasha yanked on his arm, already dragging him toward a table inside.

He went, sort of on autopilot, zero appetite left. Did he want to eat? Not really. But ditching Natasha? Not an option. So, yeah, he went along, trying not to let his frustration ruin her lunch too.

Tomorrow, Elena was gonna get what was coming to her. Elvano told himself that, grinding his teeth. Being the boss had its perks, right? He could fire her, just like that-if she wasn't basically the backbone of the whole operation. Honestly, finding someone to fill her shoes? Yeah, good luck with that. The thought almost made him laugh, except he wasn't in the mood.

"We'll see, Elena. We'll see," he muttered, jaw clenched, like he was making some kind of blood oath with himself.

***

Outside, Elena let out a sigh so deep it felt like it came from her bones. Her head was spinning, and that stupid weight-the one that always showed up when things went sideways-was back, pressing down on her. Solutions? Ha. She'd need a miracle and a half. Every step toward her car felt like she was dragging a pile of bricks tied to her ankles.

She flopped into the driver's seat, started the engine, and stared out at the city, rain hammering the windshield like it had a personal grudge. The wipers squeaked back and forth, back and forth, but the inside of her head was louder; her thoughts just wouldn't quit. Tonight was gonna be a marathon, not a sprint. No sleep, just stress and maybe some bad TV if she was lucky.

By the time she made it home, she barely remembered the drive. Her shoes squelched on the floor as she hustled straight to her dad's room, heart thumping. Ideas kept popping up and dying just as fast-nothing stuck, nothing felt right. But somehow, when she crossed that threshold, the chaos dialed down a notch. It always did in here. Maybe it was the way the air felt, or the smell of old cologne, or just the ghosts of a hundred late-night talks.

She didn't even think-her hands led her straight to the heavy iron safe. She dropped to her knees, fingertips tracing the cold, rough surface, remembering every scratch and dent. The code was burned into her brain. She punched it in, hoping she wouldn't screw it up, then waited. There it was: a soft click, metal groaning open. For a second, hope flickered-tiny, but there. Maybe this time, she'd find what she was looking for.

Elena yanked open the safe, squinting inside-and, man, talk about anticlimactic. Gold bars, sure, but not exactly a dragon's hoard. And some overstuffed folder, wedged in there like it was hiding something more exciting. Her hands weren't exactly steady as she lifted everything out and set it on her dad's desk, trying not to drop a brick of gold on her toes. That would be just her luck.

She plopped down in his chair-felt weird, honestly, like she was wearing someone else's shoes-and just stared. All this... didn't look like enough. Her brain just kept looping: Okay, first things first-call the vendors, beg for time, stall, whatever it takes. Not the most glamorous move, but at least it'd keep the wolves from the door. For now.

Phone in hand, she punched in that number the employee had scribbled for her. Fingers crossed. Most of the vendors, bless them, agreed to wait it out until the insurance came through. She could actually breathe for a second-not a big breath, but hey, better than nothing.

But then reality slapped her right back. Some vendors couldn't wait, and-crap-the employees. People needed their paychecks. She had to get creative, and fast, because that clock was loud as hell.

She spun around to the computer, that ancient thing her dad never upgraded, and started digging through files. Clickity-click-her heart keeping time with every mouse tap, like the next file might magically solve everything.

The folder finally coughed up a savings book and a bunch of her dad's chicken-scratch notes. She skimmed the numbers, trying to piece it all together. Apparently, Dad had already cashed in some gold bars. The notes spelled out what he'd done with the money: he'd sunk it into finishing the new supermarket branch. Bold move-or maybe just plain reckless. Either way, now it was Elena's mess to untangle.

"I can't stop the construction," she muttered, like she was telling it more to herself than anyone else. God, her voice barely even made it past her lips. And those workers-families who needed this job to go on. Thinking about shutting the whole thing down? Yeah, that felt like someone just dropped a cement block on her chest.

"Maybe I can borrow it, just for a while," she thought. Even as the words tumbled out, they sounded like total BS. Who was she kidding?

She flipped to the construction schedule and-bam. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull. That final payment was coming up, like, yesterday. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot, and her throat felt like it was shrinking. The panic was almost physical-her vision went fuzzy, and she had to steady herself before she keeled over.

Elena slumped forward, forehead pressed against her dad's old desk. Even if she sold off the last of the gold (ha, what a joke), it wouldn't even scratch the surface of what she owed the workers. Forget severance. Forget salaries. She felt the tears coming, and this time, she didn't bother fighting them off. They splattered all over her dad's blueprints-these neat little plans that made so much sense until real life came crashing in.

And there was no way in hell she could touch her or her dad's savings. The hospital bills were already a monster lurking in the corner. American hospitals? Please. Even with insurance, the bills were laughable-in that "I'm going to cry myself to sleep" kind of way. Every time she thought about those numbers, her chest clamped down like a vice.

She started digging through her options, desperate for something that wasn't a dead end. Then-wait. Her eyes landed on that fat folder with her granddad's land titles stuffed in it. Four of them. Maybe, just maybe, one could be flipped fast enough to keep her head above water. It wasn't much, but hey, sometimes you grab whatever lifeline you can see, right?

"Inheritance," she spat out, heavy on the bitterness. God, the word tasted sour. Not exactly the golden ticket she'd hoped for, but hey-what else did she have? No way in hell she was selling off the house or the supermarket. That stuff? Sacred. Dad's sweat, Grandpa's stubbornness, all packed into those deeds. Untouchable. But that other plot of land? The one that'd just kind of drifted down the family tree, collecting dust? That might be her Hail Mary. Weird, how hope sometimes shows up in the ugliest wrapping paper.

Elena's chest twisted up-ugh, this was it. No magical fix, just a move she'd have to stomach. Pride? Whatever. Pride couldn't pay bills. She barely paused. Snatched up the deed and bolted, praying this mystery buyer wouldn't flake.

She screeched the car up to this ridiculous mansion-like, gates, hedges, the works. A house that basically screamed, "Remember when you guys didn't have to worry about money?" She jumped out, adrenaline and exhaustion slugging it out inside her. Every step to the door felt heavier, like she was dragging the last fourteen hours right behind her.

And then-awkward. She barged inside and there's her aunt and uncle, knee-deep in chores, looking like she just crash-landed in their living room. Oops.

"Aunt?" Her voice wobbled. Great timing, Elena.

"Oh, honey, what happened?" Aunt was on her in a heartbeat, hands on her cheeks, eyes scanning her face like she might fall apart at any second.

"We heard about the fire. And your dad..." Her uncle's voice was tight, like he'd been holding his breath since sunrise. He couldn't hide the worry-never could.

Honestly? For a second, Elena almost melted. But no time for that. She was here to make a deal.

"Yeah, Uncle. Aunt. That's why I'm here, honestly-I need a hand," Elena said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. You could practically see the nerves buzzing behind that grin. Asking for help? Not her usual move. Family or not, it felt weird as hell.

"Come on in!" they called out, barely skipping a beat from whatever chores they were juggling. Warm, open-like always. Made it both easier and harder, somehow.

Elena sucked in a breath, heart pounding. This chat? Pivotal. Her family's future hung on it, no pressure or anything.

She paused at the edge of the living room-God, the nostalgia hit hard. Used to echo with her laughter. Now? She was dragging in baggage and choices she never wanted to make.

Stepping over that line, everything old and new smashed together. No more dodging it. The storm was here.

To be continued...