LEX'S POV
His finger curled once, a simple command. Lex's feet felt glued to the sidewalk.
Before she could move, the front passenger door of the car swung open. A huge man in a black suit got out. He had a face like stone. He walked toward her, his shoes silent on the pavement.
"Mr. Scardoni would like a word," the man said. His voice was flat, like he was reading the weather.
Lex's mouth was dry. "I'm closed."
"It wasn't a request," the man said. He didn't touch her, but he stood so close she could only go one way: toward the open car door.
Lex thought about running. But where? They'd find her. They knew where she worked, probably where she lived. Leo's warning echoed: A storm is here.
She lifted her chin and walked to the car. She wouldn't let them see her shake.
The inside of the car smelled like leather and cold, clean air. Vittorio Scardoni sat in the back, his face half in shadow. He looked at her, not speaking. He was older than in the photo, with streaks of gray in his dark hair. But his eyes were the same. They weren't angry. They were… curious, like she was a puzzle.
"Alessia Costa," he said. His voice was softer than she expected, but it filled the quiet car.
"What do you want?" Lex said, the words coming out braver than she felt.
He ignored her question. "Your brother spoke of you. He said you were strong. Stubborn." A tiny smile touched his lips. "He was right."
"Don't talk about my brother," Lex snapped, heat flashing in her chest.
Scardoni's smile vanished. "Leo owed me a great deal of money. A debt that died with him. Or so I thought."
Lex's heart skipped. The envelope of cash under her counter felt like it was burning a hole through the floor. "I don't know anything about his debts."
"You do now," Scardoni said. He nodded to the stone-faced man, who was now standing by the door. The man reached into his jacket.
This is it, Lex thought. He's going to pull a gun.
But the man pulled out a long, white envelope. He handed it to Scardoni, who held it out to Lex.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"Open it."
With trembling fingers, she did. It wasn't cash. It was a single piece of paper. A contract. At the top, it said: Debt Transfer Agreement.
Her eyes flew over the words. ...the outstanding debt of Leonardo Costa, hereby transferred to his next of kin, Alessia Costa…
The number at the bottom made her stomach drop. It was more money than she could make in ten years.
"This is a joke," she said, her voice cracking. "This isn't legal. I didn't sign this!"
"Your father did," Scardoni said calmly. "Three months before he passed. He co-signed Leo's original loan. The debt is yours now."
The world tilted. Her kind, quiet father? He'd never said a word. Shame and anger mixed in her throat. They were all trapped by Leo's mistakes.
"I don't have this," she said, shoving the paper back at him.
"I know," he said, not taking it. "Which is why I'm offering you a choice. A way to pay it off."
He motioned to the stone-faced man again. The man opened the folder he was holding and placed it on the seat between them. It was a menu. Romano's menu.
"My associates and I have meetings. We need a… quiet place to dine. Your restaurant is perfect. Out of the way. Private. You will open for us, exclusively, for the next thirty days. You will cook, you will serve, you will listen to nothing you hear. At the end of thirty days, the debt is gone."
Lex stared at him. "You want to rent my restaurant?"
"I want to own your time," he corrected her. "Thirty days. That is your choice."
"And what's the other choice?" Lex asked, though she already knew.
Scardoni finally looked away, out the window at her darkened restaurant. "The other choice is I call in the debt. The bank takes this building. The city takes it for back taxes. You have nothing. Either way, I get paid."
Tears of fury pricked her eyes. He had her cornered. "So I don't have a choice at all."
"Everyone has a choice, Miss Costa," he said, looking back at her. "You can fight me and lose everything. Or you can work for me and keep what's left. What's it going to be?"
Lex looked down at the contract, at the impossible number. She thought of her father, signing this out of love for his son. She thought of Leo, trying to fight his way out of a hole. She thought of the cracked window, the empty tables, and the last thing she had.
A cold calm settled over her. She was a fighter, too. But sometimes fighting meant knowing when to take a hit.
"Thirty days?" she said, her voice flat.
"Starting tomorrow night."
She nodded slowly. "Fine."
Scardoni didn't look pleased or smug. He just nodded back. "Smart. My men will be here at seven. Be ready."
The stone-faced man opened the car door for her. The cold night air hit her like a slap.
As she got out, Scardoni spoke one last time. "Oh, and Miss Costa? The money Leo left you. The envelope. Consider it a… signing bonus. Use it to fix the window."
The door shut softly. The black cars pulled away from the curb, one by one, disappearing into the night.
Lex stood alone on the sidewalk, shaking. He knew about the envelope. He knew everything. He was the storm.
The next night, at 6:55 PM, Romano's was spotless. Lex had used some of the cash to buy the best ingredients she could find. She wore a simple black apron. She felt like she was preparing for a battle.
At exactly seven o'clock, the door opened.
Vittorio Scardoni walked in first. He wore a simple black suit, but he wore it like armor. Behind him, four other men entered. They were all big, quiet, their eyes scanning the room. One of them was the young, hot-headed soldier from the car. He had a sneer on his face.
The air in the warm restaurant suddenly turned chilly.
"Your table is ready," Lex said, keeping her voice steady. She didn't smile.
Scardoni led them to the large, round table in the center of the room. As they sat, the young soldier kicked a chair leg, making it scrape loudly on the floor. He looked at Lex, challenging her.
She ignored him. She brought water. She took drink orders without writing them down. She forced her hands not to tremble as she poured.
She could feel Scardoni's eyes on her. He didn't speak to her. He talked in low tones with his men about things she didn't understand: shipments, territories, percentages. She pretended she was deaf.
The meal went smoothly, though the tension was thick enough to cut. She served the food. The young soldier complained that his steak was "too chewy." Lex just took the plate and said, "I'll make you another," her voice empty of emotion.
When she brought the new steak, she set it down carefully in front of him. As she pulled her hand back, he "accidentally" jerked his arm.
The giant, sizzling plate of steak, sauce, and hot butter flipped through the air.
Time slowed. Lex jumped back, but not fast enough. The scalding hot sauce and butter splattered all down the front of her white shirt and apron. The plate shattered at her feet.
The table went dead silent.
Pain bloomed on her chest, hot and sharp. But the humiliation was worse. The young soldier smirked. The other men looked down, pretending not to see. This was a test.
Lex's vision went red. She saw Leo's face. She saw her father's tired eyes. She saw the cracked window.
She did not cry. She did not yell.
Slowly, carefully, she knelt down. She picked up the big pieces of the broken plate. She stood up, walked to the kitchen, and got a towel and a mop. She came back out and cleaned every drop of sauce and butter from the floor, right next to the soldier's feet. Her skin burned.
When the last spot was gone, she dropped the dirty towel into a bin. Then, she walked calmly to the table. She did not look at the young soldier.
She looked directly at Vittorio Scardoni. His face was unreadable.
In a voice so calm and so cold it surprised even her, she spoke.
"Control your dog," she said, her eyes locked on the boss. "And man, don't dare me."
The silence was so complete she could hear the fridge humming. Every man at the table froze. The young soldier's smirk vanished, replaced by fear. Vito Scardoni didn't move. He didn't blink. His dark, curious eyes watched her, followed her every breath, studying the woman who had just dared the king in his own court.