Paying My Father's Debt
Description
She thought she was leaving home for a job. Instead, she was handed over like a debt - to the man her father once betrayed. Mary Callahan is kidnapped by a stranger in a black car and told the unthinkable: "Your father didn't have money. He had you." William Flanagan isn't some mob heir or clean-cut don. He's a weapon forged in the gutter, raised by the man who destroyed his family... and now he's come to collect payment in the most personal way possible. What was supposed to be revenge turns into something messier - "I thought I'd make you suffer for his sins. But I can't stop wanting you." Held captive in his estate, dressed in silk, bound by contract and then by marriage, Mary is forced to play the perfect mafia bride while plotting her escape. But when a silver knife falls from her robe, and blood hits the altar on her wedding day, it becomes clear: no one is safe. Because in the mafia, debts are sacred. Love is war. And if you can't kill the monster who owns you... you might just become his wife.
Chapter 1
Dec 9, 2025
She thought she was leaving home for a job.
Instead, she was handed over like a debt — to the man her father once betrayed.
Mary Callahan is kidnapped by a stranger in a black car and told the unthinkable: “Your father didn’t have money. He had you.”
William Flanagan isn’t some mob heir or clean-cut don. He’s a weapon forged in the gutter, raised by the man who destroyed his family… and now he’s come to collect payment in the most personal way possible.
What was supposed to be revenge turns into something messier — “I thought I’d make you suffer for his sins. But I can’t stop wanting you.”
***
The wind scraped against the peeling paint of the house like it had a grudge to settle. Mary stood on the porch next to her father, two suitcases at her feet, the soles of her boots pressing against cracked concrete.
The house behind them sagged like it was too tired to keep standing. Just like Ben.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw — unshaven, lined — and wouldn’t meet her eyes.
A car rolled up to the curb.
Not a cab. Not even close. It was the kind of car you didn’t see on their street unless something had gone terribly right… or very, very wrong.
Glossy black. Tinted windows. Quiet as a threat.
“What is that?” Mary asked, taking a step back.
Ben exhaled hard. “We couldn’t afford a cab,” he muttered. “An old acquaintance offered to give you a lift to the airport.”
She glanced at the car again. “Seriously?”
He popped the trunk and hefted her suitcase in. His sleeve slid up slightly, revealing the faded tattoo on his wrist — a casino chip split by a knife, ringed in barbed wire. She stared.
“You never told me what that meant.”
“I never wanted to.” He turned toward her, voice rough. “Listen. I know this isn’t how you pictured leaving. But you’ve got a job lined up. A future. Take it. Don’t look back.”
Mary searched his face, but whatever she was hoping to find — regret, explanation, anything real — wasn’t there. Just exhaustion.
So she climbed into the back seat.
The air inside was colder. Smoother. Smelled faintly of expensive leather and something sharper underneath — ozone, maybe. Or danger.
She reached into her bag. Frowned. Rifled faster.
Her heart stuttered. “Shit. I forgot my passport.”
The door lock clicked down.
Her head whipped up. “What the hell?”
The driver didn’t answer. Just raised something in the rearview mirror. Her passport.
“You looking for this?” he asked.
Her stomach bottomed out. “Who are you?”
He didn’t turn fully, but his voice sharpened like broken glass. “Someone who’s owed.”
“Owed what?” she snapped.
Now he turned. Just enough for her to catch the edge of his profile — chiseled, unreadable. A scar trailed his jaw, pale against sun-warmed skin.
“Your father,” he said, calmly, “played with wrong people and raked up a debt. Big. Messy. Stupid kind of debt.”
She blinked. “So? That has nothing to do with me—”
He cut her off. “Collateral, princess. He didn’t have money. He had you.”
The words sank in like venom. She lunged for the door. It didn’t budge.
“Dad!” she screamed, pounding the window. “Tell me this isn’t real!”
Ben didn’t flinch. Didn’t even pause. Just walked back into the house and shut the door behind him.
The lock clicked again.
Her scream echoed in the tight cabin as the car jerked forward.
She fumbled for her phone, hit three digits with trembling fingers—
The brakes screeched. The phone was yanked from her hand, flung out the window like it weighed nothing.
Her breath hitched. “Are you out of your mind?!”
The man was already out of the car. A second later, the back door flew open and he reached for her.
Mary kicked, thrashed, cursed—
He caught her wrists in a single, brutal grip and shoved her back into the seat. His frame caged her in, eyes like arctic storms.
“Don’t fight me.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’ve already been there,” he murmured. “But I’m your ride out of it.”
She stared up at him, fury and fear tangled tight in her throat.
“You can walk away,” he said, voice low. “But then I’ll go back and take what’s mine from Ben instead.”
Silence.
Her jaw clenched. Her heartbeat was chaos.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
His eyes didn’t flicker. “Oh I bet you will.”
Then the door slammed, and the city swallowed the rest.
Paying My Father's Debt
30 Chapters
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