Chapter 1 My Sick Mother

• Kael hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. His shirt still smelled like rubbing alcohol, but he didn’t have time to change. The hospital called again, same problem, same debt and now the office lights were flickering like even the building wanted him gone.
• A message blinked in the corner of his screen: “Meeting rescheduled – 1:00 PM.” He didn’t care.
• The only meeting that mattered was the one his mother wouldn’t survive without. He rubbed his eyes, but behind the blur and the ache was a number he couldn’t escape: $27,380.94.
• Then his phone rang, and the screen lit up with: "Horizon General Hospital."
• Kael stared at the name. He didn’t want to answer. He already knew what they’d say.
• It rang once… twice…, then he finally picked up.
• “Mr. Darion,” the voice said. “Your mother’s balance was posted again this morning. Your outstanding debt is a total of $27,380.94. Your mother wouldn’t be taken care of without a down payment.”
• Kael leaned forward in his seat, gripping the phone with both hands.
• “Please….just give me a few more days. I’m getting it together, I swear. She’s my mother, I wouldn't run away. I just need a little more time.”
• There was a pause, then the voice replied coldly,
• “This is your third extension. There won’t be a fourth.”
• The call ended, and Kael sat still. He lowered his phone and pressed it to the desk slowly, but with more force than necessary.
• Kael had no other choice as he tapped open his mail box on his computer and typed carefully,
• ‘Requesting a temporary salary advance due to a family medical emergency. Open to deductions…’
• He hovered over the send button. Then he finally clicked.
• By mid afternoon, he was summoned. Annika, the HR officer, didn’t offer a smile. She just pointed to the seat across her desk, stylus already tapping on her tablet.
• “You’re asking for twenty- eight thousand dollars?” she said.
• Kael nodded. “Yes. I can repay it weekly or biweekly. It’s urgent, it’s for my mother. She’s—”
• “Don’t care,” Annika cut in.
• Kael froze as she leaned back in her chair, looked him over like he was dirt on the office floor.
• “You’re not special, Kael. You think you’re the only one with problems? Everyone in this building has a dying parent, or a kid in rehab, or a gambling uncle.”
• He blinked. “I’ve never asked for anything. Just this once—”
• “Exactly. You’ve been invisible since you got here, and now you want money? Out of nowhere?” she scoffed.
• “You think just because your mom’s in the hospital, we’re all supposed to gather around and save you like some charity case?”
• “That’s not what I—”
• “No. What is this,” she snapped, tapping her tablet hard,
• “This is pathetic. You’re a midtier analyst with no property, no capital, and you think twenty grand is a small ask? For someone with zero leverage?”
• She leaned forward, “If you can’t afford your own mother’s survival, maybe you shouldn’t be in the finance department at all.”
• Kael’s face went blank. Annika gave a bitter laugh as she stood, and opened the door.
• “Your request is denied and a word of advice? Stop making people uncomfortable with your little sob story. Nobody here is getting paid enough to pretend they care.”
• She stepped aside to let him leave. “You can see yourself out.”
• Kael couldn't believe that everything was happening so quickly. He had no other choice but to walk out slowly, feeling dumbfounded and beyond words.
• He went back to his office as he froze. There were no more options. No one else to call. No polite follow-ups or late-night spreadsheets could fix this.
• His mother, Saria, was still in critical care across town, her body failing under a disease that didn’t care how tired he was or how hard he worked. The drug that might keep her alive—NuMyelin—was rare, expensive, and his insurance couldn't cover it up. Payment was due in full.
• He stared at the phone as the battery was already red, hoping maybe something else would come through, but it didn’t.
• Only one option remained. One name. One address. He’d sworn never to go near it, but of course, he’d thrown the damn paper out.
• Kael reached into his bag for his charger and froze. A crumpled piece of paper sat wedged between his notebook and an old takeout receipt.
• He knew exactly what it was. Three nights ago, Ms. Elandra the bitter woman two doors down had shoved it at him in the hallway without slowing her step as the words she said rang in his ears,
• “You’re broke, you’re desperate, and nobody’s coming,” she snapped. “Take that Loan shark. No forms, they will give you f*cking money. Fits your situation, doesn’t it?”
• Kael had looked at the paper just long enough to see the name scrawled across it. Then he walked into his apartment, crushed it in his fist, and hurled it toward the floor near his radiator like it burned.
• He must’ve accidentally scooped it up yesterday when he was shoving documents into his bag in a hurry.
• Now here it was, sitting in his hand like it had been waiting.
• The writing was smudged, but still clear:
• Razen Cortez
• 38 Vico Street, Dockside
• Kael closed his eyes. He didn’t want this, but there was no one else left.
• Razen Cortez wasn’t some street enforcer with gold chains and loud threats. He was worse. A middleman with power and zero patience smart enough to stay invisible, cruel enough to make fear feel like a handshake.
• He was the leader of the Black Fang Syndicate, a front paper company posing as a logistics company.
• If you missed a deadline, it was simple, either you paid the interest in cash, or you paid with your life. Kael knew that still, but he locked his phone, stood up, and grabbed his jacket.
• “I’m going,” he muttered under his breath.
• ********
• Kael stood just inside the glass door, holding his breath. His chest felt tight, like stepping into a place he didn’t belong. He saw a woman behind the front desk smile at him. She had blonde hair and looked to be in her mid-30s.
• “Mr. Darion?” she asked.
• He nodded, adjusting the collar of his only blazer which was a little tight at the shoulders.
• “Mr. Cortez will see you now.” It was as if they had been waiting for him already.
• Behind her, the elevator chimed softly and the doors slid open.
• Kael hesitated. She hadn’t pressed a button, swiped a card, nothing. The doors had opened… on their own.
• He glanced at the woman. She gave a slight nod. “It’s for you.”
• He took a half-step forward, then froze.
• “Should I really get in?” he muttered, barely realizing he’d spoken aloud. in?”
• The woman’s smile thinned. “Mr. Cortez doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
• Kael looked back at the elevator. He nodded slowly, mostly to himself, then muttered, “Guess it already knows where I’m going.”
• He stepped in. The doors slid shut behind him without a sound.
• The doors closed as Jazz played quietly in the background. Kael was scared as he looked down at his hands. They were shaking. He shoved them into his coat pockets.
• Twenty-eight thousand dollars, that’s what he needed.
• The elevator stopped as he walked into the suite. It looked more like a luxury showroom than an office.
• There were velvet armchairs at the far end, frosted glass shelves and a single painting on the wall had red brushstrokes on black canvas. There was no logo anywhere. Just a single nameplate on a polished desk 'RAZEN CORTEZ'
• The man behind the desk looked just like the rumors said. He wasn’t flashy—just a charcoal-gray suit, matte black tie, copper-toned skin, close-cut hair, and his eyes staring like a bank vault.
• He didn’t stand up as Kael entered and he didn’t smile either, he just gestured for Kael to sit on the chair across from him.
• Kael sat down slowly. A second later, a tablet slid across the glass desk between them.
• Kael glanced down. It was a loan agreement, the kind that looked legal like something a finance firm might offer a promising tech startup. Except the interest field was already filled in.
• “Rolling clause. Weekly compound, 60% base.” He stared at it.
• “That’s... that’s too much!” Kael stutttered.