My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 531

Chapter 531

Raphael

One Week Earlier

+15 Banus

The house looked like it was one bad winter away from collapsing.

I stood beside Vincenzo on the cracked sidewalk and looked at the small two-story building squeezed between wo equally miserable houses.

Paint peeled from the siding, one of the shutters hung crooked. The front steps dipped slightly in the middle. A rusted bicycle leaned against the porch railing, nothing about the place matched the number attached to the file in my hand.

Twenty-five million dollars.

I looked at the house again, then at the file, then back at the house. It still didn’t make sense.

Beside me, Vincenzo lit a cigarette, “You sure this is it?”

“Yes.”

He looked unimpressed, “So these women owe twenty-five million dollars and this is where they live?”

“They owe more than that.”

Vincenzo glanced at me.

I opened the file, “Twenty-five point eight million.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, “How?”

That was the same question I’d asked an hour ago. Fortunately, unlike most people, I had access to answers. I flipped through the pages.

“Denise Walker started an escort service twelve years ago. Nothing large. Twelve women, mostly private clients, wealthy businessmen, athletes, politicians. People willing to pay for discretion.”

The business had actually been profitable, very profitable for several years. Then Denise got ambitious and ambition was expensive.

And stupidity was even more expensive.

“Four years ago she expanded. She brought a place called Rose Garden, new locations, additional employees, drivers and security.”

Vincenzo exhaled smoke, “And she borrowed money.”

“Repeatedly.”

Banks had refused, most legitimate lenders had refused. Cole Mercer hadn’t. Street gangs loved desperate people and desperate people signed anything. Especially when somebody promised easy money.

Denise borrowed five million first, then three more, then another four, then another six. Every time something

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went wrong she borrowed more money to fix it.

And every time she borrowed, the interest got worse, much worse.

I looked down at the numbers, “Then one of her locations got raided.”

“Why?”

“Human trafficking investigation.”

Vincenzo frowned, “Was she involved?”

I shook my head, “No. The poor woman hadn’t done anything close to human trafficking, someone intentionally targeted her and the investigation still destroyed her reputation. Clients disappeared, income dropped, employees left, then came lawsuits, former contractors, former clients, landlords, investors.”

Everybody wanted money, nobody wanted excuses. She borrowed more, then one of her managers stole nearly two million dollars and disappeared. Another borrowed against company assets without permission.

“Then Denise started gambling,” I added.

Vincenzo laughed once, not because it was funny, but because it was predictable. Everybody always thought they would win, nobody ever did.

“How much?”

“Enough.”

The casinos took several million, sports betting took more. Desperation created bad decisions. Bad decisions created bigger problems. Eventually she couldn’t keep up with the interest payments.

Debt was Cole Mercer’s business.

“At this point most of the debt isn’t even principal anymore.”

Vincenzo nodded, “Interest.”

“Mostly.”

The original loans were less than half the current amount. The rest came from penalties, late payments, missed payments, compounding interest. Additional loans taken to cover previous loans.

A financial death spiral.

The kind that never ended, the kind designed not to end because men like Cole Mercer never wanted repayment.

They wanted control.

I looked toward the house again. The curtains moved slightly. Somebody was watching us. My attention drifted back to the information I’d found on the women living here.

Denise.

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