Maya's POV
The coffee pot fell to the ground after slipping out of my grasp. Splashes of hot coffee fell everywhere. My legs were burned through my jeans by the brown liquid. Pieces of glass strewn like tiny daggers on the checkered floor of the diner.
"Maya!" From behind the counter, Tony yelled. "Are you okay?"
I gazed at my phone. On the cracked screen, the text message glowed. I could hardly hold it because my hands were shaking so much.
We owe your father. You have 48 hours to make the payment. Otherwise.
The phone number was blocked. No name. No image. I felt like I was falling off a cliff after hearing those awful words.
I lied and bent down to pick up the glass fragments, saying, "I'm fine."
I grasped each jagged piece with shaking fingers. My thumb was cut by one, and blood spilled onto the floor.
Tony came running over with a mop. "Go away. I'll tidy up this mess."
However, I continued to pick up the glass. I needed to do something with my hands. A distraction from the text that was making my heart race.
"Maya, you're bleeding," Tony said softly. After pulling me to my feet, he put a napkin around my thumb. "What's the matter? You appear to have seen a ghost."
I desired to inform him. Since Mom passed away, Tony had been like a grandfather to me. However, how could I explain that my father was once again having problems? That we could lose everything?
"Just tired," I muttered.
Tony looked at my face with his brown eyes. I was lying, and he knew it. "Get home early today. I'll take care of the dinner rush."
I gave a headshake. "I need the money."
"The funds will wait. You must get some rest."
I wanted to argue, but my phone buzzed from another text. My heart stopped beating.
We are aware of your workplace. We are aware of your residence. We are aware of your school. Don't make things more difficult than they have to be.
The phone clattered on the floor after dropping out of my hands. The screen cracked even more this time.
"Maya!" I swayed and Tony grabbed my arm. "What's happening?"
My fingers trembled as I picked up my phone. The message was still there, but it was difficult to read because of the cracks. Still actual. Still horrifying.
I grabbed my backpack and said, "I have to go."
"Wait—"
However, I had already started to run. I exploded onto the street, and the diner door slammed behind me. All I could hear was the roar of my own heartbeat in my ears as the busy evening traffic in Chicago roared around me.
To get to our apartment building, I ran six blocks. My legs were burning. I had a burning sensation in my lungs. However, I was unable to stop.
Our apartment was on the third floor, and the stairs seemed to go on forever. With my bulky backpack rattling my back, I took them two at a time.
"Dad!" As I unlocked our door, I yelled. "Are you here, Dad?"
Not a word. It felt empty in our small apartment. Fear and stale cigarettes filled the air.
"Dad!" I called again, more loudly.
I looked in his bedroom. It didn't matter that the bed was made. Dad no longer slept much. Not since Mom passed away.
The note was on the kitchen table when I found it.
Maya, sweetheart. I apologize. I made things worse by attempting to fix them. More than anything, I adore you. Remain resilient.
Dad
My legs failed me. I sank into a chair and gazed at the note. He had shaky handwriting, as if he had been drinking. Or afraid.
I dialed his number. It went directly to voicemail.
"Where are you, Dad?" After the beep, I said. "I received some strange texts. Are you all right? Give me a call back, please."
I immediately called again after hanging up. Voicemail is still in effect.
Like ice water, fear ran up my spine. Dad wasn't a fool, but he gambled. Unless there was a serious problem, he wouldn't simply vanish.
I hurried to the closet in our shared bedroom and took out the shoebox containing our emergency fund. I lifted the lid with trembling hands.
Empty. Everything. Lost. My college budget. The money for rent. The money for groceries. Even the $20 I had been putting aside for flowers for Mom's birthday.
I turned the box upside down and whispered, "No, no, no." Only a couple of coins dropped out.
After grabbing my laptop, I went to our bank account and logged in. My heart fell even lower.
Balance in account: $12.47
We had more than three thousand dollars yesterday. Not much, but enough to cover food and rent. It was gone now. Everything had been taken by Dad.
I gave the bank a call. Although she was kind, the woman on the phone was unable to assist.
"Your father is listed as the primary account holder. I apologize, honey. He is free to take any amount out."
"But that's my money for college!" Trying not to cry, I said.
"I get it, but legally—"
I ended the call.
Once more, my phone buzzed. The blocked number sent another text.
It takes 47 hours and 23 minutes to complete. We advise you to begin searching for your father. He is in possession of something that is ours.
I gazed at the message until the words became hazy. Who were these individuals? What was taken from them by Dad? And since I didn't know where he was, why did they think I could locate him?
I made another attempt to call Dad. Voicemail is still in effect. Then I made another attempt.
I called Jimmy, a friend of his who played poker in Murphy's Bar's back room.
"This is Maya, Jimmy. Is my father present?"
"Haven't seen him in two days," Jimmy remarked. "He never showed up for tonight's game, even though he was supposed to. Is everything all right?"
Sincerely, I said, "I don't know."
"Tell him to give me a call if you see him. It's crucial."
"Sure thing, kid."
After hanging up, I attempted to call Dad's other pals. No one had noticed him. He seemed to have disappeared into thin air.
My phone rang. Hope flitted in my chest for a moment. Perhaps Dad was calling back. However, another blocked number was displayed by the caller ID.
I nearly didn't respond. However, I needed to understand what these people desired.
I muttered, "Hello?"
"Maya Chen." It was a deep, serene, and utterly terrifying voice. "We must have a conversation."
"Who is this?"
"Your father's friend. We let him borrow something. We need it back now that he's gone."
My voice cracked as I said, "I don't know where he is."
"You then have an issue. Because in our company, family members pay off debts when an individual is unable to do so."
The line died.
My entire body trembled as I gazed at my phone. Instead, the family pays. What was meant by that?
The number was blocked when I attempted to call it back. My screen displayed another text message.
Verify your email.
I opened my laptop and checked my email with shaking fingers. One new message came from an unfamiliar address. My blood froze when I saw the subject line: "Your Father's Debt."
I gave it a click. Despite being brief, the message included three attachments.
Maya. We were robbed of $2,000,000 by your father. You will replace him if he doesn't return it within 46 hours. You can see how serious we are from the pictures.
The Romano Family
I moved my cursor over the first attachment. Was this something I wanted to see? Was I curious about the types of people my father had hung out with?
I selected the first picture. It displayed a man with his hands bound behind his back. His knuckles were covered in blood.
The same man's face appeared in the second picture. His eyes were swollen shut and he was battered.
I screamed at the third picture. Dad was there. Terrified, bloody, and beaten. Additionally, the words "46 hours, or your daughter joins him" were written in red ink in the photo's corner.
Someone turned off the lights in my apartment, and my laptop's screen went black. Outside, I heard footsteps on the stairs. Boots that are heavy. Multiple individuals.
They were pursuing me. It was too late when I snatched up my phone and dashed to the window. The front door flew open.