The industrial fan in the back of the shop hummed a low, anxious tune as Eleni carefully wove a thick, white silk ribbon through a massive circular frame of chrysanthemums. It was a funeral wreath—grand, somber, and heavy.
Much heavier than it should have been.
"You're over-thinking the symmetry again, Eleni. The dead rarely complain about a crooked petal," a voice drifted from the shadows.
Eleni didn't turn around. She knew exactly where Ben was. He was leaning against the doorframe, still wearing Leo's ridiculous hoodie, looking like a king in exile.
"I'm not thinking about symmetry, Ben. I'm thinking about the three solid gold bars hidden in the base of this wreath," Eleni hissed, her wire cutters snapping a stem with more violence than necessary. "If the police stop me, what do I say? That it's a new type of heavy-metal floral arrangement?"
Ben stepped into the light, a faint, amused smirk playing on his lips. "Technically, it's an investment in the afterlife. And don't worry. You don't look like a smuggler. You look like a woman who needs a nap and a vacation. That's your best disguise."
"Oh, thank you. My disguise is being exhausted? How charming," she shot back.
"It works," Ben said, his tone turning serious as he stepped closer. "Deliver the wreath to the side entrance of the Villa d'Oro. Ask for 'The Accountant'. Don't make eye contact. Don't haggle for a tip. And most importantly, don't look at the back of the van if you hear a noise."
Eleni stopped her work and looked him dead in the eye. "If I do this, Ben... if I put my life and Mia's safety on the line, are we square? Does this shadow over my shop disappear?"
Ben reached out, his fingers hovering near her cheek before he pulled back. "Once 'The Accountant' receives this, your debts aren't just paid—they are deleted. Your brother Leo gets his school fees, and you... you get your life back. Or whatever is left of it."
"And you?"
"I get to stay alive long enough to buy a suit that actually fits," Ben joked, but his eyes were cold. "Now, put this in your ear."
He handed her a tiny, encrypted earpiece.
"What is this? Are we in a spy movie now?" Eleni asked, eyeing the device with suspicion.
"It's a lifeline," Ben said. "I'll be watching your GPS. If I say 'turn left', you don't ask if there's a better route. You just turn. Understand?"
"Yes, Captain Arrogant. I understand."
Eleni loaded the massive, heavy wreath into her battered old delivery van. Every muscle in her body was screaming. As she climbed into the driver's seat, the weight of the gold felt like a ticking bomb behind her.
The drive through the winding streets of Athens was a nightmare. Every police siren in the distance made her heart jump into her throat.
"Breathe, Eleni. You're gripping the steering wheel so hard you're going to snap the plastic," Ben's voice crackled in her ear.
"I am driving a fortune in illegal gold, Ben! How am I supposed to breathe?" she whispered-yelled at the dashboard.
"By moving your lungs. Look ahead. There's a police checkpoint in two hundred meters. Don't slow down too fast."
Eleni's blood turned to ice. "A checkpoint? You said the roads were clear!"
"Plans change. The police are looking for a stolen car. Just be the overworked, grumpy florist. Smile at the officer on the left. His name tag will say 'Kostas'. Tell him the humidity is ruining the lilies."
"How do you know his name is Kostas?"
"I pay for the information, Eleni. Now, focus."
The officer waved his baton, signaling her to stop. Eleni rolled down the window, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Afternoon, Officer," she said, forcing a weary smile.
"Delivery for the Gala?" the officer asked, glancing at the back of the van.
"Yes, and honestly, with this humidity, I'm worried these flowers will wilt before the first toast," Eleni said, her voice steady despite the terror. "My brother says the rain is coming, but he's never right about anything."
The officer chuckled, wiping sweat from his forehead. "My wife says the same. Go on, then. Don't keep the Mayor waiting for his wreath."
As she pulled away, Eleni let out a jagged breath. "I hate you, Ben. I officially hate you."
"That's the spirit. Hate keeps the adrenaline moving. You're one minute away from the Villa. Side entrance. Now."
Eleni pulled up to the massive iron gates of the Villa d'Oro. A man in a sharp, grey suit was waiting in the shadows. He looked like he had never smiled in his entire life.
"Delivery for the ballroom," Eleni said, her voice remarkably calm.
The man stepped forward, his eyes scanning the van. "Who sent you?"
"Sebastian," Eleni said, using Ben's alias.
The man's eyes flickered. He reached out and took the heavy wreath, his muscles straining under the weight of the gold hidden inside. He handed Eleni a small, sealed envelope. "For your trouble, 'Cousin'."
Eleni didn't wait. She got back into the van and drove until she was miles away, her hands finally starting to shake. She pulled over near the coast and opened the envelope. Inside was a single, elegant business card with a hand-written note:
"The debt is dead. But the game has just begun."
She leaned her head against the steering wheel, relief washing over her. She had done it. She was safe.
Or so she thought.
Suddenly, a cold, metallic click sounded from the back of the van. The very van she thought was empty.
"Don't turn around, Eleni," a voice whispered—a voice that wasn't Ben's. "Just drive. We have a new destination."
Eleni froze. The earpiece in her ear was silent. Ben was gone.