«STD—BANK, USA»
"Your five-million-dollar loan will be credited to your account shortly, Mr. Romans," the manager said, rising to his feet.
Frederick stood as well, shaking the manager's hand, a wide smile spreading across his face.
His daughter would finally live a life filled with freedom and comfort. He would use every penny he had borrowed to nurture her dreams, to educate her, and to give her the happiness she deserved.
Thailra deserved nothing less than the very best life had to offer.
And he—Fredrick Romans, her father—would make sure of it.
No matter the cost, no matter the risk, he would see to it that her mother's final wish was fulfilled.
"The silver stone… make sure she wears it around her neck. Don't let her lose it. And give our daughter the best life. Under no circumstances must you ever sell the stone, Fred."
His late wife's voice echoed in his mind, clear and unwavering, as though she were standing right beside him.
The silver stone was a treasured heirloom of his late wife's family.
According to her, it had been passed down through generations: from her great-grandfather to her grandfather, then to her father, and from her father to her mother.
On her mother's sickbed, she had placed the stone in her palm, closed her fingers around it, and told her to give it to her daughter—and to name that child Thailra.
And that was exactly what she had done.
Fredrick had honored her wishes concerning the stone, guarding it carefully just as he had promised.
But her second wish—to give their daughter the best life possible—was the one he struggled to fulfill. It was the hardest promise of all.
Still, he believed he was getting closer.
"Congratulations once again. Stick to the plan," the manager said calmly. "In twelve months—one year from now—we will come for the money. Make sure it's ready by then, Mr. Romans."
Fredrick smiled, nodding repeatedly.
The manager gave a brief, approving nod in return.
"I'm prepared to stake my properties and future business earnings. I'll repay every cent—I'm willing to accept any terms the bank sets," Fredrick replied.
The manager nodded once before taking her seat. Fredrick sat back down, his eyes drifting around the office as the weight of the moment settled on him.
Without another word, the manager picked up her telephone and made a brief call. Moments later, He placed it back on the desk, her expression unreadable.
"The loan is being processed. You'll receive the funds shortly. Congratulations once again, Mr. Roman," he said.
Almost immediately, Fredrick's phone chimed. He brought it out, his breath catching as he read the notification on the screen.
CREDIT ALERT: $500,000,000
His lips slowly curved into a smile.
*
*
*
PRINCE—MEMORIAL
«HIGHSCHOOL»
Thailra sat alone in the cafeteria, eating in silence as she turned the pages of her mathematics book, struggling to understand the solutions before her.
Absentmindedly, she took another bite of her hamburger—and in a moment of carelessness, a smear of sauce stained the open page.
Startled, she quickly set the hamburger down on her plate and lifted the book with both hands.
But instead of fixing the damage, her sauce-stained fingers only spread it further across the paper.
She let out a quiet sigh and gently closed the book, drawing in a deep breath as anxiety settled in.
What would she tell the librarian? The thought of having to beg for forgiveness almost brought her to tears.
The cafeteria was nearly empty now.
She was always the last to finish her meal.
"Hello… mind if I join you?" a voice asked from behind her.
Her eyes widened at once.
She knew that voice.
It was the same one that had warned her to be careful the last time. It couldn't be who she was thinking of—because if it was, she might do something she would regret.
Whenever she was nervous, she completely lost control of her bladder, she'll pee on her fucking self.
Panicking, she snatched the book from the table, slipped it quickly into her bag, and zipped it shut. She placed the bag beside her chair before finally turning around.
Their eyes met.
Her breath caught. It was exactly who she had feared—and secretly expected.
Carlos motherfucking Rodriguez.
He stood there, balancing a tray of food in one hand, his guitar case slung over his back. His dark hair fell neatly across his forehead, and a single earring glinted from his left ear under the cafeteria lights.
One eyebrow arched in mild amusement as he waved a hand gently in front of her face, pulling her back to reality.
"You okay?" Carlos asked, a hint of concern softening his melodious voice.
For a moment, she simply stared at him, wordless and transfixed. His lips curved into a gentle smile as he waited for her response.
"You're always the last one here," he said lightly, choosing to ignore her fixed gaze as he pulled out the chair and sat down. He placed his tray on the table in front of him.
"Do you just really love cafeteria food, or are you hiding from the world?"
She swallowed hard when he turned his full attention to her.
The intensity of his gaze made her lose all sense of composure. Flustered, she quickly looked away, grabbed her hamburger, and shoved the rest of it into her mouth in a single, desperate attempt to avoid speaking.
His eyes widened in surprise.
For a split second, Carlos simply stared at her in disbelief.
"Whoa—slow down," he said quickly, half-rising from his seat. "Are you trying to set a world record or something?"
Thailra's cheeks burned as she struggled to chew, her eyes watering slightly. She gave him a frantic nod, as if to assure him she was perfectly fine—though she clearly wasn't
There was no water on her table—who even eats without water?
Carlos reacted instantly. He grabbed his own bottle, uncapped it, and stretched it toward her without hesitation.
But she couldn't even manage a sip in her current state. Swallowing her pride instead, she carefully pulled the half-chewed hamburger from her mouth and held it awkwardly in her palm.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to him.
He extended the bottle closer, his expression steady—concerned, not disgusted.
She swallowed hard again, disbelief flickering across her face. He didn't look revolted. He didn't look amused. If anything, he looked worried.
"I'm not judging you," he said gently. "Just breathe."
Her chest tightened. She needed to run. She needed to disappear. How could she have done something so humiliating in front of anyone—especially him?
A dreadful thought struck her. What if he turned this into a song? What if he sang about it? The entire state would hear it. They would laugh. They would never let her forget.
Her fingers curled slightly around the ruined hamburger as panic rose in her throat.
"I promise," Carlos added quietly, as if sensing her spiraling thoughts, "this isn't going into any lyrics."
She blinked.
"How did you—"
"You have very loud thoughts," he teased softly, though his eyes were kind. "Relax. It's just lunch. Not a tragedy."
But to her, it felt like the end of the world.
How was she supposed to use the same hand she had just ruined to take that flashy bottle from him? The thought alone made her panic all over again.
She couldn't risk hurting his ego—or worse, making things even more awkward.
And were they really the only ones here? What if a camera had been watching the whole thing?
What if someone caught her on social media? Or worse, posted it on the student board?
She could practically hear the principal's voice in her head, scolding her for publicly acting dirty and threatening a month-long suspension.
The imagined punishment sent a wave of hot sweat sliding down her temple.
"This isn't me… I'm not dirty," she whispered, her voice breaking. "It's just that I—" Her words faltered, and tears slipped from her eyes as she lowered her gaze to the table.
Carlos gently placed a handkerchief in her palm and set the bottle of water in her other hand.
She swallowed hard, glancing up to see him already eating his own meal, earplugs snugly in his ears, oblivious to her embarrassment.
She couldn't help but pout slightly. Why didn't she have a brother like him?
Meanwhile, at the door, Daniel stood with one hand in his pocket and the other clutching a mathematics book.
His gaze was fixed on them, his expression unreadable. He had come intending to study, but the scene before him is killing something deep inside—something unease he couldn't name.
His grip tightened on the book.
*
*
*
«12 MONTHS LATER»
A man could be seen running desperately through the streets, a group of thugs hot on his heels.
It was Fredrick.
His clothes were smeared with dirt, his hair wild and disheveled as he ran for his life.
For weeks now, Snooze's men had been hunting him relentlessly, demanding their money. He had survived only by running and hiding, moving from place to place like a fugitive.
His daughter knew nothing about it. He never planned to let her find out.
As if that wasn't enough, the bank had begun demanding repayment as well.
His life lay in ruins—every plan shattered.
There was not a single penny left to his name.
Once surrounded by borrowed wealth and fragile hope, Fredrick now found himself drowning in an ocean of poverty, with no clear way out.
His lungs burned as he turned sharply into a narrow alley, his limping gait slowing him down.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind him, growing closer with every second. Panic clawed at his chest, but he pushed forward, driven by one thought alone—Thailra.
He couldn't let them catch him.
Not yet.
He burst out of the alley onto a deserted street and ducked behind a row of abandoned stalls, pressing his back against the cold wall as he struggled to steady his breathing.
His heart hammered violently, each beat reminding him of how far he had fallen. Just months ago, he had been a man with hope, plans, and promises.
Now, he was nothing more than prey.
The voices of the men echoed nearby.
"Spread out," one of them barked. "He can't be far."
Fredrick covered his mouth with his trembling hand, willing his breaths to quiet. Sweat mixed with grime on his face as his mind raced.
The money was gone—every last cent. The house, the comfort, the illusion of success—all of it had slipped through his fingers like sand.
He thought of his late wife's voice, soft but firm.
«Give our daughter the best life»
A bitter smile tugged at his lips. He had tried. God knew he had tried.
Somewhere far away, Thailra was probably waiting for him, believing her father was strong, dependable, unbreakable.
The thought tightened his chest more painfully than the chase itself. If she ever found out the truth—about the debts, the gambling den, the lies—it would destroy her.
Footsteps suddenly stopped nearby.
Fredrick held his breath.
A shadow passed slowly across the ground. He clenched his fists, his body tense, ready to run again if he had to—even if his legs gave out beneath him.
Just a little longer, he prayed silently. Let me protect her… just a little longer.
But deep down, he knew the truth he refused to accept.
No matter how far he ran, the past—and the debts—were catching up fast.
The shadow lingered for a moment, then moved on.
Fredrick waited, counting silently, his pulse roaring in his ears. When the footsteps finally faded, he slid down the wall, collapsing onto the wet ground.
His strength drained away, leaving only exhaustion and fear in its wake.
He pressed his forehead against his knees, his shoulders shaking—not from the cold, but from the weight of it all.
The bank.
Snooze.
The lies he had wrapped around his daughter's life like fragile glass.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Fredrick stiffened.
With trembling fingers, he pulled it out. An unknown number. For a brief second, hope flickered—maybe it was the bank, maybe some miracle had found him at last.
He answered.
"Mr. Romans," a calm voice said, too calm to be kind. "This is STD Bank. You have defaulted on your repayment schedule. Your assets are now under review."
Fredrick closed his eyes.
"Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Just give me more time."
There was a pause on the line, cold and professional.
"You've already used all the time available to you. If you fail to present a concrete repayment plan within seventy-two hours, legal actions will commence."
The call ended.
Fredrick stared at the blank screen, his reflection faintly visible—sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, a man he barely recognized. The world felt unbearably quiet now, as if even fate had stepped back to watch him fall.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet.
He couldn't go home. He couldn't face Thailra—not with this hanging over him. Yet staying away was just as dangerous. Snooze's men wouldn't stop.
The bank wouldn't wait.
The walls were closing in from every side.
His hand drifted unconsciously to his chest, where the memory of the silver stone lingered in his mind.
Protect her. No matter what.
Fredrick straightened, wiping rain and dirt from his face. If this was the end of the road, then he would face it standing. He would find a way—one last way—to shield his daughter from the storm he had created.
Even if it cost him everything.
Fredrick staggered out of the alley and merged into the night crowd, keeping his head low.
Every sound made his heart jolt—a car door slamming, hurried footsteps, laughter that felt too sharp to be harmless. He walked for hours, until his legs burned and his chest ached with every breath.
By dawn, he found himself standing across the street from the mansion.
Home.
The word felt heavy now, almost mocking.
Lights glowed softly behind the curtains. Thailra would be awake soon—getting ready for school, humming to herself, wearing that silver stone around her neck like she always did.
The thought twisted something deep inside him.
He couldn't go in like this.
Fredrick turned away and sank onto a bus stop bench, burying his face in his hands. His mind raced, replaying every decision that had led him here—the loans, the promises, the dangerous hope that money could fix everything.
"I only wanted to give her a better life," he whispered bitterly.
His phone buzzed again.
This time, it wasn't a call.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You can't keep running, Mr. Romans. Snooze doesn't like being disrespected. Tonight is your last chance.
Fredrick's fingers trembled as he locked the screen. His chest tightened, panic clawing at his throat. Tonight. They were done waiting.
A sudden realization struck him then—clear and terrifying.
If he stayed, Thailra would be dragged into this mess. Snooze's men wouldn't care about innocence. The bank wouldn't care about intentions.
He stood abruptly.
There was only one thing left to do.
Disappear.
Not forever—just long enough to draw the danger away from his daughter. Long enough to buy her time. If Snooze wanted him, he would make himself easy to find—far from her.
*
*
*
«FIVE DAYS LATER»
POLICE STATION
"My father has been missing for five days! I reported it two days ago, and you told me to wait—wait five days! Today marks the fifth day, and now you want me to wait seven? You're just going to sit there and do nothing about his disappearance? Is this how you all operate?!" Thailra yelled, tears streaming down her face.
"Your father is a criminal! If we find him, he'll be spending the rest of his life in jail. You should be thanking your stars he's gone instead of showing up here to shout at us!" one of the officers shouted back.
Thailra's eyes widened in shock, hot tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Judging by the look on your face, he didn't tell you," one of the officers said coldly.
"So let me be the one to explain it to you. Your father borrowed fifty million from the AFCON gambling den and five hundred million from STD Bank—both loans set to mature within a year. This month was the agreed deadline for repayment."
He paused, watching her closely.
"Knowing he had no money to pay back, he disappeared. Now tell me—do you still expect us to waste our time searching for him?"
Thailra staggered backward, her mouth falling open as she struggled to breathe.
She clutched her chest, her vision blurring as hot tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks.
Her father owed a total of five hundred and fifty million, and for all those months, he hadn't even mentioned it to her. How could he be so heartless toward his own daughter?
Now, it felt as if the weight of all that debt had landed squarely on her shoulders.
Every worry, every consequence—she was living on borrowed time, trapped in a life built on someone else's failures.
"Dad!!!" she screamed, throwing her hands into her hair and tugging at it in frustration.
Her eyes darted around the room, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, her body trembling as a sharp headache pounded mercilessly.
How was she supposed to come up with the money to pay back this impossible debt?
Her vision blurred, and she shut her eyes, collapsing forward. But a strong arm caught her before she could hit the floor.
It was Daniel.
"Call an ambulance—now!" he shouted, his voice sharp with authority. The officers around them scrambled instantly, following his instructions without hesitation.
Thailra's body shook as she was carefully lifted onto a stretcher.
Daniel stayed close, his hands lightly supporting her shoulders, his eyes scanning the room with quiet intensity.
He refused to let her go, refusing to let anyone else handle her roughly.
The ambulance arrived moments later, its siren piercing the tense air.
The officers stepped back, giving them space as paramedics moved quickly to tend to her. Daniel followed closely, his grip on her hand never loosening.
As the medics secured her inside the ambulance, she murmured weakly, "Dad… I can't… I can't do this alone…"
"Thailra, listen. You have me now. I'm here, and we'll face this together. Everything—the fear, the pain—it will fade like smoke. I promise you, I'll make sure of it. Please… don't lose hope yet. I'm right here," Daniel said, his voice low but steady.
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes as he squeezed her hand, holding it gently yet firmly.
He lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to it, his own eyes glistening with the first tears he had ever shed.
But it felt like he was performing his duty.
------------
༆𝑻𝑩𝑪༆
🔥🔥✨