Edward's Point Of View
I stared at the stack of manila folders piled on my desk, half-expecting one of them to sprout teeth and lunge at me. For the past few weeks, my entire existence had shrunk to a frantic, sweating cycle of attempting to restore Moore Enterprise to its former glory while a massive, suffocating dark cloud loomed overhead: the debt we owed to Silvestro.
Thirty-five million dollars. I hadn't managed to raise even a quarter of it. Not even close. Moore Enterprise had suffered so catastrophically that I'd spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, my mind conjuring images of some enforcer named Luigi arriving with a crowbar to inquire about my kneecaps.
The thought made my stomach churn every time. I'd wake up in cold sweats, my sheets tangled around my legs, the phantom sound of knuckles cracking echoing in my ears.
