The rain fell like punishment sharp, cold, and relentless.
Ethan staggered down a narrow alley behind a row of crumbling apartment blocks, boots slipping on wet asphalt, lungs burning with every breath.
His face was a mess split lip, bruised cheekbone, one eye nearly swollen shut.
Blood stained the collar of his torn dress shirt, mixing with rainwater as it ran down his neck.
The pounding in his skull was only slightly louder than the shouts echoing behind him.
"Get back here, you little worm!"
He didn't look back.
He couldn't afford to. These men didn't issue second warnings.
Not when he owed them over seventy grand and had nothing but empty pockets and shattered pride.
His foot caught a broken pipe.
He hit the ground hard, pain jolting through his ribs likely cracked from the last beating.
He scrambled up, hands raw, breath sharp.
Ahead, the alley opened into a wide boulevard — slick with rain, lights blurry from the downpour.
He could see freedom. Just a few steps more.
A horn blared.
Then came the lights.
Then impact.
The sound of metal, flesh, and glass colliding was brief, but brutal.
Ethan's body flew onto the hood of a silver Rolls Royce Phantom, crumpling like a rag doll before he slid off and hit the pavement.
For a moment, all was still except the rain.
Heavy. Unforgiving.
The back passenger door clicked open.
A woman stepped out.
Not rushed. Not alarmed. Composed.
She wore a crimson pantsuit that clung to her like tailored silk armor.
Red heels struck the wet road like gavel hits.
Long black hair tied into a sleek braid, skin glowing even under the pale city lights.
Vivian Wei.
The name whispered through boardrooms like scripture and through back alleys like legend.
Heiress of the Wei dynasty.
One of the richest women in the country. Power made flesh and dressed like sin.
She stood over Ethan's crumpled form, eyes cool, lips painted blood red.
He groaned, trying to sit up.
The pain bit deep, but not as deep as the shame.
"Are you… alright?" he rasped, barely audible.
She looked at him like he was an insect crawling across her marble floor.
"You're bleeding," she said calmly. "On my car."
He blinked up at her, dazed. The blood mixed with rain down his chin.
His limbs shook. He was barely holding it together.
"Please... just... help me..." His voice cracked, broken like everything else in his life.
Behind them, the alley shadows stirred.
Two of his debtors emerged thick jacketed, knuckles already bruised from earlier.
Their pace slowed the moment they saw her.
One of them froze. "Shit... That's Vivian Wei's car."
The other paled. "No way. That's her."
They looked at each other, then at Ethan lying at her feet like a kicked dog.
Vivian didn't turn to them. She didn't need to.
She simply raised an eyebrow.
They backed away like cowards in the presence of royalty, muttering apologies into the rain before disappearing back into the dark.
Silence returned.
Ethan panted, his heart trying to climb out of his chest.
Vivian finally crouched beside him, her expression unreadable.
She reached forward and with surprising gentleness lifted his chin with two fingers.
He flinched.
His eyes met hers. Cold, unblinking.
"You've made quite the mess of your life," she said, more curious than mocking.
He said nothing. There was nothing left to say.
Vivian stood, wiped her hand on a silk handkerchief, and opened the back door of the Rolls.
"Get in."
Ethan blinked. "What?"
"You're lucky I'm in a generous mood tonight."
"I... I don't understand."
She turned, her eyes sharper now.
"Then understand this: I don't offer twice."
And somehow, in that moment, soaked in blood and rain and shame, Ethan realized whatever came next might be worse than debt.
Or maybe it was salvation.
He crawled into the car.
The door closed behind him like a final sentence being passed.
The Phantom pulled into traffic, vanishing into the night.