Chapter 48
Elise's POV:
I stared at the number for a long time. Then I moved on to the second task—
transferring the contents of the black ledger into a separate spreadsheet.
Date, amount, name, keywords.
March 12, 2019 / 15,000 / Mr. K / interest
2023—the frequency spiked sharply.
June 2023 / 50,000 / Mr. K / principal and interest combined
From 2024 onward, entries appeared nearly every week. The most recent one was just last week:
May 2, 2024 / 120,000 / (no name) / final batch. settled in full. consequences to follow if not.
"dock," "high interest," "overdue," "consequences to follow"—these phrases recurred so often I could no longer ignore them.
Benjamin Miller owed gambling debts on the outside. And not ordinary debts—these were loan shark debts. Borrowing to repay borrowing, compounding with every cycle.
But I needed to know more. Who exactly was this "Mr. K"? And what was this "dock"?
---
Marcus arrived at nine in the morning.
He came in carrying a takeout coffee and two paper bags of bread, and raised an eyebrow when he saw me already seated at my workstation.
"This early?" He set the coffee on the table. "I figured you'd be staying over there for a few days."
"Over there." I didn't look up, my fingers continuing across the keyboard. "Not a good place to think."
Marcus didn't press further. He never asked about my personal life—that was the thing about him I appreciated most. He knew when to speak and when to keep quiet.
He settled in at the workstation beside mine and opened his laptop to work through the appointment log.
I waited until he was settled before I spoke.
"Marcus, I want to ask you something."
"Mm?"
"Do you know anyone called Mr. K?"
His hands went still on the keyboard.
Just a fraction of a pause. Brief enough that I almost missed it.
"Why are you asking about that all of a sudden?" His voice was calm—too calm.
"I'm looking into something. The name came up."
Marcus looked at me.
That look—not scrutiny, not curiosity, but something more complicated, like he was weighing something in his mind.
"Someone from the underground circles around the port district," he said, his voice slowing, each word chosen carefully. "His real name is Kevin, I think. Runs a gambling operation. Has backing behind him."
Kevin. Underground casino operator, port district. Backed by larger forces.
I added these details to a new column in the spreadsheet.
Then I sat there, staring at the data on the screen, the gears in my mind turning rapidly.
Benjamin Miller hadn't only embezzled nearly eighty percent of my parents' estate.
He'd gotten himself entangled. Entangled with underground forces. Entangled with a man named Kevin—a loan shark casino boss with connections—and with whatever larger power stood behind him.
What did that mean?
It meant two things.
First, Benjamin was far more vulnerable than I had assumed. Those gambling debts weren't ordinary loans—the phrasing "consequences to follow if not" indicated he had already crossed some kind of line. The patience of underground operators was finite. Once he couldn't pay, they wouldn't pursue legal channels for collection. They would use other methods.
Second, Benjamin was also far more dangerous than I had assumed.
A man with nowhere left to turn was capable of anything. The reason he had been accelerating the transfer of the estate might not be pure greed alone—perhaps he was genuinely running out of money. A large sum. The kind of shortfall that couldn't wait.
And I was living in his house.
Sitting at the same table with him for dinner every day. Sleeping in the room next to his.
A cold sweat broke out across my back.
---
At two in the afternoon, I left the tattoo shop.
I took a cab to Julian Vance's office.
The same deep crimson corridor carpet. The same oil paintings of indeterminate age. The same smell of old paper.
Julian was waiting in his office. He seemed somewhat thinner than when I'd last seen him—his eye sockets deeper, his gold-rimmed glasses replaced with a new pair, the lenses noticeably thicker, likely the result of too many late nights straining over documents.
"Sit," he said.
I placed the printed materials on the desk in front of him.