Chapter 6

• Lana
• Dad drops to his knees.
• The old floorboards groan under his weight, a tired, aching sound that feels like it comes from the house itself. From us. From everything that’s been breaking for years and never quite gets fixed.
• “Please, Lana. Please.” His voice fractures as he reaches for my hands, fingers shaking as they close around mine. He squeezes like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go. His palms are damp, slick with sweat. “You don’t know what those men could do to me. We already lost your mom and Leo.” His throat tightens, and the last word barely makes it out. “I can’t. I can’t lose you too.”
• My chest constricts, breath catching halfway in. Heat stings behind my eyes, sharp and immediate, like my body betraying me before I can stop it.
• Damn it.
• He knows exactly where to hit.
• “Do you really want to lose me too?” he whispers.
• I suck in a sharp breath and yank my hands free. His skin leaves a clammy imprint behind, and the pity crashes in before I can brace against it. It’s heavy. Automatic. Familiar.
• I should let him face the mess he made.
• I should walk away and let the consequences finally land where they belong.
• But he’s right, and that’s the worst part.
• I can’t risk losing him. Not after everything. Not when he’s all I have left, even if what’s left is cracked and unreliable and constantly bleeding me dry.
• “Fine,” I say, the word cutting the air like a snapped wire. “I’ll go talk to Xander Chen.”
• The name tastes bitter, like something rotten I can’t spit out fast enough. I pause, forcing myself to take a slow, steady breath. Just the thought of seeing him again tightens my chest, like invisible fingers pressing down on my lungs. For a split second, I wonder if I should grab my inhaler. The anxiety feels that close to tipping over.
• “But,” I add, my voice hardening, “there’s one condition.”
• His head snaps up. Hope floods his face so fast it’s almost painful to watch. “Thank you, Lana. Thank you.” He reaches for me again but stops himself, hands hovering in midair. “I’ll do anything.”
• I glare at him, cold and unflinching. “No more gambling. Ever. You delete Danny’s number. You cancel the weekly tip subscriptions. All of it. Today. No excuses, no stories, no ‘just this once.’”
• His eyes fill again, tears clinging to his lashes. He nods too fast, like if he agrees quickly enough I won’t change my mind. “I swear, Lan. I’m done. I’ll never waste another cent. I only did it for you. After everything you’ve been through, I just wanted you to have a better life.”
• My heart twists despite myself. I hate that it still can. I know better. I’ve always known better.
• He’s an alcoholic.
• A gambler.
• A liar.
• I’ve heard this promise more times than I can count, wrapped in different words but always ending the same way. And still, some small, stupid part of me wants to believe him. Wants the version of him I loved to be real again.
• “If you really want a better life for me,” I say quietly, each word carefully placed, “then let me go.”
• He nods, slower now, shame sinking into his shoulders. “Once this is over,” he says, “I’ll do whatever you want. You want to go to Florida? I’ll help you leave. I swear.”
• “Good,” I mutter, exhaustion creeping into my bones. “Now take a shower, Dad. You stink.”
• A small smile flickers across his mouth. Just for a second, I see him, the man he used to be. The sober one. The steady one. The father who laughed easily and came home on time. The man who had a wife and two kids and a life that made sense.
• Mom’s death broke him.
• Leo’s finished the job.
• He pushes himself up, back hunched, shoulders slumped as if gravity weighs more on him than it should. He tries to stand straight anyway. “You deserve so much better, Lana.”
• “Yeah,” I say flatly. “That’s why I’m trying so damn hard to get out of here.”
• Malcolm cups my cheek. His hand is rough now, skin thickened by years of bad choices and harder living. Nothing like the gentle touch I remember from when I was little, when he used to tuck me in and brush my hair back from my face. “You will,” he says softly. “You always do what you set your mind to.”
• He gives me one last look, then turns and shuffles toward the bathroom. The door closes behind him with a dull thud.
• The second it slams, my knees give.
• I sink onto the couch, staring at nothing. My stomach flips with sharp, angry nerves that buzz just under my skin.
• The thought of begging my ex makes my flesh crawl, like ants skittering beneath the surface. Xander is a manipulative bastard. I’ve known that since the day I finally walked away.
• This feels deliberate. Like he engineered the whole thing just to drag me back into his orbit.
• His way of reminding me I never really escape.
• Too bad for him. I’ll be gone in a few weeks.
• I force myself up and walk to my side of the living room. If this is going to work, it has to look convincing. Real enough to satisfy him.
• I dig through my closet, fingers brushing past clothes I don’t wear anymore, and pull out my sexiest dress. The one I wore on our first date. Low neckline. Soft fabric. It clings to my curves like it remembers me.
• Xander’s favorite.
• He used to say Asian women were too skinny. He liked a woman with weight on her. Like that made him sound worldly instead of cruel. All that stupid crap I swallowed back then because I wanted to be wanted.
• My stomach churns as I picture his hands on me, his voice in my ear. I shake my head hard, like I can dislodge the image. It won’t go that far. I won’t let it. I’ll lie if I have to. I’ll promise anything to clear my father’s debt.
• And with a little luck, I’ll be gone long before the bill comes due.