Beyond our deal

AMBER.

I knew something was wrong from the moment I heard heavy steps outside the door. It was nine o'clock at night, the rain was pouring down hard, and the sound was clearly audible, overpowering the roar of the water falling from the roof.

"There's a guest," Dad muttered softly, his voice trembling. But I knew this was no guest.

A loud knock on the door made us all jump. Three times, hard, like a hammer knocking on a coffin. Mom held my hand tightly, and I could feel her palm cold, almost trembling.

"I'll open the door," Dad said, trying to sound brave, but I could tell his voice was losing strength.

He steps towards the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. And there he stood-Vincent.

A tall man in a neat black suit, his face as sharp as a knife, and his eyes as dark as bottomless pits.

Behind him, two other men stood, bigger, more sinister, like shadows ready to strike at any moment.

"Mr. Patrick," Vincent's voice sounded soft, too soft for someone like him.

It was the kind of softness that made my hair stand up.

"I've come to collect your promise."

Father swallowed, taking a step back. "Vincent, I... I need some time. Business is not good-"

"Time?" Vincent interrupted, stepping in uninvited.

"I've already given you time, Mr. Patrick. Three months, more than enough for a man who says he's in charge."

"I'll pay! I just need a little more-"

"A little more?" Vincent chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

Just cold, sharp, and threatening.

"If everyone who owed me money said that, I wouldn't be where I am now," he said, implying a very clear threat.

I stood in the corner of the room, holding Mom who was beginning to tremble. I wanted to step forward, to defend Father, but my body felt heavy.

How could I fight someone like Vincent?

"Do you know what happens to people who don't pay their debts?" Vincent asked as he walked slowly, like a tiger surrounding its prey.

"I don't have time for fairy tales, but I can give you an idea if you want."

"No!" exclaimed Father, his voice desperate. "I'll pay. I just need-"

"Enough." Vincent's voice cut through like a whip. He turned to me and Mom, his eyes stopping on my face.

I felt my heart stop beating for a moment.

"Sweet family," he said with a small smile, but his smile was cold, more frightening than his anger.

"I don't want them involved. But it's up to you, Mr. Patrick."

"Please," Father whispered, his voice almost inaudible.

Vincent gave him a long look, then sighed softly, like someone who had just been upset.

"No, I won't give you any more time! I'm already waiting for you to take responsibility for your actions!"

He turned to me once more before stepping out, and I felt his gaze like a dagger that left a scar.

As the door closed, I slumped to the floor. My body felt weak, my breathing ragged. Mother was crying softly next to me, while Father just stood transfixed, staring at the door as if Vincent was still there.

"Father..." my voice trembled. "What exactly happened?"

But Father didn't answer. He just covered his face with his hands, as if trying to hide his embarrassment, or perhaps his fear.

I knew that tonight was just the beginning of a bigger storm. Vincent is not a man who gives mercy. And I feared that, no matter how hard we tried, there would be no way out of this.

"I told you, Vincent, I'll pay you back," Father's voice sounded desperate, almost trembling.

Vincent, in a low, calm voice that was more sinister than a direct threat, replied, "And I told you, Mr. Patrick, the deadline is up. I've waited too long."

I squeezed the edge of the curtain, holding my breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Father's slightly hunched back, a sign that he was feeling cornered.

Vincent sat relaxed on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, his hand playing with a glass filled with a drink. The smirk curving his face provoked goosebumps.

I could already guess that someone like Vincent would be unforgiving.

"But, please... give me more time," Father said again.

"I'm taking care of some assets. I can pay half in a few weeks," Father continued, still trying to be convincing.

Vincent chuckled, the sound like a knife trying to get inside my head.

"A few weeks? Mr. Patrick, you know my world doesn't work like that. I need certainty. Assurance."

"Assurance? I... I don't have anything else."

"Really?" Vincent bent his body slightly, his tone turning cold.

"I think you still have something very valuable."

Father looked confused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

I felt a chill run down my spine as Vincent turned his head, his eyes looking directly at me.

My goose bumps stood up.

As if he knew I was peeking, he smiled a small, horrible smile.

"Your daughter," he says softly, each word like a dagger slicing through the air.

My heart seemed to stop beating after hearing him say my name.

"Amber would be the perfect collateral. If your debt is not paid, she can work for me," Vincent says with confidence.

The world around me seemed to stop. I felt my blood rush, my breath catch.

I wanted to scream, wanted to step in and slap the man across the face. But my body couldn't move.

Father was silent, looking surprised. "Vincent, you're not serious."

"Oh, I'm very serious," Vincent replied in a light tone, like he was talking about something trivial.