Page 10

Not a car—she’s too broke for that.

I should talk to her.

Maybe if I understood where it was going, I could help. Keep her from spiraling.

I’ll talk to her.

When she comes back.

I’m halfway through my pathetic dinner when a knock rattles the door.

My heart skips a beat from the force of it.

Hard. Aggressive.

My fork freezes halfway to my mouth.

Who the hell knocks like that at this hour?

Before I can stand, the knocking turns into pounding.

Then—

CRACK.

The door bursts open, the hinges splintering straight from the frame.

“What the?—?”

I scream, but the rest of the words die in my throat as I stumble back, pressing myself into a corner.

Like putting a few feet between us will make any of this less terrifying.

Three men crowd into our tiny apartment.

I don’t recognize any of them.

“Time’s up, Chiara,” the bigger one says.

My heart stutters.

They think I’m her.

We’re identical, but Chiara wears more makeup and dresses flashier. Today, with my hair down and wearing one of her old T-shirts and jeans, the mistake is easy to make.

I should correct them. I should tell them I’m Aria, not Chiara. But the words stick in my throat because whatever they want from my sister, it can’t be good. And if they can’t find her…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my voice smaller than I want it to be.

The thin one laughs, a harsh sound that makes my skin crawl. “Playing dumb won’t help. D’Angelo wants his money. All of it. Today.”

The big one steps closer, towering over me. “Ten grand,” he says. “Plus interest.”

The number hits me like a slap.

Ten thousand dollars? Chiara owes that much?

My mind reels, struggling to process it.