LEX'S POV
By dawn.
The words chased Lex all the way home, up her apartment stairs, and screamed in her head as she lay in the dark. By dawn, Vito's men would be digging. They'd find public records, old addresses, maybe her high school transcript. But to find the real secret—her life as "The Sphinx"—they'd need to talk to people from the underground fighting world. That took time. She had a few hours, maybe.
But what if they already knew someone? What if they were knocking on doors right now?
At 3 a.m., she gave up on sleep. She pulled on her clothes and ran back to the restaurant through the freezing, empty streets. She wasn't running from something this time. She was running to something. Her father's old office.
She had avoided it for years. After he died, it felt like a tomb. But if there was any proof of her past, any clue about Leo's debt that could help her, it would be in his messy files.
She burst through the back door of Romano's and flipped on the light. The tiny office was just as he left it: stacks of invoices, dusty cookbooks, and a faded calendar from three years ago.
She started with the rusty filing cabinet. It squealed in protest as she yanked open the top drawer. Bills, bills, and more bills. She tore through them, papers flying. Nothing.
The second drawer stuck. She kicked it, hard. It jerked open.
This drawer wasn't for bills. It was for the family.
On top was her own third-grade drawing of the restaurant, with a crooked sun in the corner. Under that, her mother's handwritten recipe for marinara sauce, the paper stained with drops of old sauce. Her throat tightened.
She dug deeper, her hands frantic. And then she felt it. A stiff, yellowing envelope tucked at the very back. She pulled it out.
It wasn't sealed. Her hands shook as she turned it over. One word was written on the front in her father's careful handwriting: Leo.
Inside, there were no secrets about Vito. No debt contracts. Just two things.
The first was a folded newspaper clipping. The paper was thin and brittle. The headline screamed: LOCAL MAN DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT AT PRIVATE EVENT.
Below it was a grainy photo of a warehouse. It wasn't a news article about a boxing match. It was a cover-up. The article said Leo Costa, 28, died from a "freak accident" while attending an "unauthorized private gathering." It said police found no evidence of foul play.
Lex remembered the police. They asked a few questions, took a report, and left. They didn't want to look too hard at what happened in a dirty fighting ring. Leo was just another nobody to them.
Tears blurred the words. They had erased her brother's life, his passion, his skill, and turned him into a careless party-goer. The injustice was a fresh knife to her heart.
The second item in the envelope was a small, square photo. It was a picture of her, Leo, and their dad. They were all standing in front of Romano's on opening day, years ago. They were smiling, arms around each other. Her father had written on the back in blue ink: My heart. My reasons. Forgive me.
Forgive him? For what?
And then she understood. He hadn't signed Leo's debt to Vito out of love. He'd signed it out of guilt. He must have known about the fighting. Maybe he even helped pay for Leo's training, thinking it was a dream. And when it turned into a nightmare, he felt responsible. So he signed his name, tying himself and now her to the debt.
He had carried this secret until he died. He had saved this envelope, this proof of his shame and his loss, and hidden it away.
A sob ripped from Lex's chest. She slid down the side of the filing cabinet onto the floor, the clipping and photo clutched to her. She cried for her brother, who died for nothing. She cried for her father, who died from a broken heart. She cried for herself, trapped in a cage made by the men she loved.
She didn't know how long she sat there. The cold from the floor seeped into her bones. The sky outside the small window began to lighten from black to deep blue.
Dawn.
The thought was like a splash of ice water. She wiped her face with her sleeve. She had to hide this. If Vito's men found this clipping, they'd have a direct path to her secret life. They'd know she was there that night. They'd know everything.
She scrambled to her feet, stuffing the envelope into the inside pocket of her jacket. She had to get it to her apartment, burn it.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A heavy, fist-hammering knock shook the back door of the restaurant.
Lex froze. It wasn't the gentle jingle of the front bell. This was a demand, coming from the dark alley.
By dawn.
They were here. Already.
The knocking came again, louder. BANG. BANG. BANG.
Whoever it was, they weren't going away. If she didn't answer, they'd break the door down. She thought about the cash in the register, the broken window. Maybe it was just a robber.
But she knew it wasn't.
Slowly, she walked through the dark kitchen, her heart a trapped bird in her chest. She reached the heavy metal back door. She put her eye to the peephole.
Two men in dark suits filled the view. They weren't the rough men from last night. These were the stone-faced guards from Vito's car. The professional ones. Their expressions were blank, like statues.
Lex's breath fogged the tiny glass. It was over. Vito had gotten his information. He knew. And now he had sent his men to deal with her.
She had nowhere to run. The envelope in her pocket felt like it was on fire.
With a trembling hand, she turned the lock and pulled the door open. The freezing dawn air rushed in.
The two guards looked down at her. One of them spoke, his voice flat.
"Miss Costa. Mr. Scardoni has requested your presence. Come with us, please."
It wasn't a question. It was the beginning of the end.
Lex opened her mouth to refuse, to fight, to scream. But the second guard stepped forward. In his gloved hand, he wasn't holding a weapon. He was holding a small, clear plastic bag. Inside the bag was a single, silver charm bracelet. Lex's breath stopped. It was her mother's bracelet. The one she kept hidden in a box under her bed at her apartment. The guard tilted the bag, the charms tinkling softly. "He thought you might need some… persuading," the guard said. "Please, don't make this difficult." They hadn't just dug into her past. They had been inside her home.