Reality didn't crash into Yelena.
It punched her.
Her uncle… had taken a loan?
Not from a bank. Not from some corporate lender.
From loan sharks.
Yelena stood in the middle of the wrecked living room, surrounded by shattered glass, overturned furniture, and the lingering smell of fear. Her heartbeat was loud enough to drown out her thoughts.
Slowly, she turned her head toward the couch.
Yelena's aunt sat stiff as stone, one arm wrapped around Scarlet like a shield. Scarlet's face was pale, her eyes red, her lips trembling like she was trying not to scream again.
Yelena's voice came out low. "Is it true?"
Yelena's aunt's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Scarlet, for once in her life, spoke first. "Yes," she whispered.
That single word was enough to make Yelena's stomach drop.
Scarlet swallowed, forcing herself to continue, her voice shaky like she was speaking at her own funeral. "Dad… invested everything into the company's new research project. He said it would pay off soon. He said the investors would come. He said the contract was guaranteed."
She let out a weak laugh that sounded more like a sob. "But there were delays. Things didn't move. And then… he needed cash."
Yelena stared at her like she couldn't recognize her. "So he went to criminals," she said.
Scarlet's eyes flashed, a spark of her usual arrogance breaking through the fear. "What else was he supposed to do? Let the company collapse?"
Yelena's hands curled into fists. "And you all kept it from me?" she asked, voice rising. "You knew something like this could happen, and you still didn't tell me?"
Scarlet scoffed, the contempt returning like a familiar perfume.
"Why would we tell you?"
Her gaze flicked over Yelena's face, then down, like she was looking at a walking wallet.
"What would you have done? Offered your trust fund?"
The words were sharp. Casual. Like she was discussing grocery money.
Yelena's eyes narrowed.
Of course.
That was always the real reason.
Even before her father died, he had been careful. He'd built walls around his fortune, thick legal walls made of signatures and conditions. A trust fund that couldn't be touched until Yelena turned twenty-four.
She was twenty-three now.
Just one year away.
And her uncle's family had been circling her like starving dogs ever since.
Her father had owned companies. Several. He'd been respected, feared, admired.
After he died, those companies didn't magically disappear.
They were "temporarily managed" by his brother, her uncle.
And somehow, "temporary" had started looking a lot like permanent.
Yet they still dared to act like Yelena owed them.
As if food and shelter were gifts, not obligations.
She could still hear Yelena's aunt's voice, loud and venomous, echoing from old arguments.
You ungrateful little bitch! If not for us, you'd be rotting on the streets like a rat!
And Yelena's younger voice, trembling but stubborn.
Those businesses were my father's!
Yelena's aunt would always scream louder after that, always for the neighbors' benefit.
Look at her! Look at how she repays kindness! Raising another woman's child is like feeding a snake!
Yelena could still remember the humiliation, the bruises, the way Yelena's aunt's eyes shone with satisfaction when she saw Yelena cry.
And now…
Now they were in debt.
Now they were cornered.
And Scarlet's first instinct was still to reach for Yelena's inheritance.
Yelena's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You're unbelievable," she muttered.
Scarlet's eyes sharpened. "You're not innocent either," she spat. "You've been living in this house for years."
Yelena laughed once.
A dry sound.
"Living?" she repeated. "That's what you call it?"
Before Scarlet could reply, a slow clap cut through the tension.
Yelena's head snapped toward the sound.
The scar-faced man, the one who seemed to be in charge, stepped forward with lazy confidence, as if he had all the time in the world.
He was still smiling.
Still entertained.
His eyes moved between Yelena and Scarlet like he was watching a drama show. "What a fascinating family," he said. "Honestly, I'd pay money just to watch you all argue."
He glanced around at the ruined living room.
"Unfortunately," he continued, "I'm here to get paid, not to be entertained."
His gaze settled on Yelena. "You're the only one here with a brain," he said. "So I'll talk to you."
Scarlet flinched at the insult.
Her fear didn't stop her mouth, though.
"You people are insane!" Scarlet suddenly screamed, the hysteria bursting out. "We would've paid already if your interest wasn't disgusting! Forty percent every two weeks? That's robbery! You're parasites! Sharks!"
Her voice cracked on the last word.
The scar-faced man didn't even blink.
He scratched inside his ear with one finger, expression bored, like Scarlet's voice was just noise in a crowded street.
Then he sighed.
"Hey," he called over his shoulder.
One of his men looked up.
"Shut her up," the scar-faced man said. "She's ruining my morning."
Scarlet's face drained of color. "What…?"
She didn't even have time to scream again.
Two men grabbed her. One yanked her forward. The other forced her arms behind her back.
Yelena's aunt shrieked and lunged from the couch. "Don't touch my daughter!"
A slap echoed through the room.
Not a slap to Scarlet.
To her mother.
Yelena's aunt stumbled back, shocked, her hand flying to her cheek like she couldn't believe reality had the audacity to hit her.
Scarlet tried to fight, but it was useless.
They gagged her mouth with a dirty cloth and tied it tight.
Her scream became a muffled whimper.
Her eyes widened in terror.
And Yelena…
She couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Because she had never seen Scarlet silenced before.
Never.
The scar-faced man nodded with satisfaction. "Much better."
Then he looked back at Yelena.
"Now," he said calmly, "let's speak like adults."
Yelena forced her feet to stay planted, even though every instinct screamed at her to run.
Her nails dug into her palms.
"What do you want?" she asked, voice-controlled.
He smiled. "Simple. Your uncle pledged this house as collateral."
Yelena's heart sank.
So it wasn't just a random threat. It was paperwork. Contracts. Signatures.
A trap sealed with ink.
"And the payment is overdue," the man continued. "Which means the collateral is mine to collect."
He spread his arms slightly, as if presenting the house. "So… I take the house."
Yelena's mind raced.
This wasn't her house.
Not legally.
Not yet.
But she lived here. Her room was upstairs. Her books. Her clothes. Her entire miserable life.
If they took this place…
She would have nowhere.
And her uncle's family would drag her down with them like anchors.
Yelena inhaled slowly. "A deal is a deal," she said.
Yelena's aunt's eyes widened in disbelief.
Even Scarlet, gagged and restrained, looked at her with pure hatred.
Yelena's aunt erupted.
"You wicked girl!" she screamed. "You heartless little monster! After everything we did for you, this is how you repay us?!"
Yelena didn't even turn her head.
She'd heard those words too many times to flinch.
The scar-faced man sighed. "Can't you women ever be quiet?"
He flicked his fingers. "Gag her too."
Yelena's aunt froze. "What?!"
She backed away, shaking her head.
"No! Don't touch me! I'm an elder! How dare you!"
But the men didn't care about age.
They cared about orders.
Within seconds, Yelena's aunt's mouth was gagged too, her protests swallowed into muffled rage.
She struggled.
Scarlet struggled.
Both of them looked like trapped animals.
Yelena watched, her expression unreadable.
And deep inside her chest, something dark and shameful bloomed.
Satisfaction.
Not because she enjoyed cruelty…
But because, for once, Yelena's aunt and cousin were powerless.
For once, they couldn't scream and hit and humiliate her.
For once, they were the ones begging.
The scar-faced man turned back to Yelena, amused.
"You didn't stop me," he observed.
Yelena's gaze sharpened. "You didn't give me a reason to."
His grin widened.
"Interesting."
He then stepped closer.
Close enough that Yelena could smell his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke.
"Listen," he said, lowering his voice. "There's a way out of this."
Yelena's eyes widened slightly. "What way?"
The man's gaze slowly swept over her face.
Then her neck.
Then her body.
Yelena's stomach twisted. at his gaze
He reached out and caught her chin between his fingers, tilting her head as if she were merchandise.
Yelena's muscles went rigid.
Every hair on her skin stood up.
His eyes glinted. "You're beautiful," he murmured. "And you've got fire."
Yelena's breath turned shallow.
He leaned in slightly, voice almost playful.
"Our boss… has been looking for a wife."
Yelena blinked.
Her brain refused to process the words.
A wife?
The scar-faced man smiled wider.
"You'd look good in white," he continued, like he was describing a dress on display. "And you'd solve this whole ugly debt issue in one stroke."
Yelena stared at him.
The room spun for a second.
Then her blood boiled.
She slapped his hand away so hard his fingers snapped back.
"No."