Chapter 1
LEIGH
I stand in the middle of my cluttered apartment, surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes. My entire life is crammed into these boxes, ready to leave behind the weight of this city. My gaze falls on the vision board, a collage of sun-soaked beaches, glittering Hollywood signs, and music studios. My dreams glued together in one fragile hope. Los Angeles—my ticket out of Vegas and this suffocating world I was born into.
My stomach flips as I trace my fingers over the images. “Two more days,” I whisper to myself, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling up inside me. “Just two more days and I’m outta here.”
I grab my phone to find out if my final paycheck has cleared. If it's in, I could possibly leave a day earlier. Tapping the banking app with trembling fingers, my pulse quickens as the screen loads. I'd love to leave tomorrow. It would lessen the chances of my father doing something to ruin my plans. But as the app opens, my heart stops for a beat before sinking to my feet and crashing to the floor. The numbers glare back at me, mocking me and turning my worst fear into reality.
Zero balance.
No, no, no.My fingers fly over the screen to refresh the app, each tap a punch to the gut. My breathing grows shallow, panic clawing at my chest.
But the glaring zeroes taunt me. Reality sinks in, heavy and cold. I knowexactlywho’s responsible.
“Goddamn it, Dad.” My fists clench around the phone.
My father. The man who is supposed to keep me safe and support me. Instead, he stole my ticket to freedom.Again.
I collapse onto a nearby box, my mind reeling. How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve known better than to trust him and to believe his promises of change.
“Some people never change,” I say bitterly to the empty room. “And some dreams never come true.”
But despair doesn’t have time to settle. Anger surges instead—hot, fierce, unstoppable.
I stand up, determination steeling my spine. “Not this time, Dad. You’re not fucking well taking this from me.”
I dial his number, each ring fueling my rage. When he answers, I don’t give him a chance to speak.
“Where’s my fucking money?” My words lash out, cutting the air like a whip.
My fingers tremble as I grip the phone, knuckles white with fury. My sneakers squeak against the worn hardwood as I spin, pacing like a caged animal.
“Sweetheart,” my father’s voice drips with feigned innocence. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’tsweetheartme,“ I snarl. “My account is empty. Every last penny is gone. And we both knowyou’rethe only one who could’ve done it.”
I pause to steady my breath. “I trusted you,” I say, quieter now, but no less intense. “I actually believed you when you said you were done with the gambling and cons. So much for just being the concierge at the Diamond Hotel and Casino.”
“Come on Leigh. You know I’ve kept to my word this past year.” He pauses. “But this opportunity was too good to turn down sweetheart. It’s a huge pot, and I feel tonight’s going to change our lives.”
“Like I haven’t heard that a million times,” I snap, “I don’t fall for it anymore. I was getting out, Dad. That money was my ticket to a real life, and you know how fucking hard I worked for it.”
As I speak, my eyes land on the vision board. Los Angeles. Freedom. A life without looking over my shoulder or worrying about when the next mark will catch up with us. All of it is slipping away because I was foolish enough to trust my own father.
“I want it back,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “Every last penny. I want it backtonight.”
“Now, now,” my father says, his tone changing to placatory. “Let’s not be hasty. I’ve got a plan—“
“No,” I cut him off. “No more plans. No more schemes. Just give me back what’s mine.”
But even as I say it, a sinking feeling tells me it’s already too late. The money’s gone. It is most likely piled on a felt-lined table in a smoke-filled backroom high-stakes game. And now, deardad is going to try to drag me into whatever scheme he’s created in his head to cheat his way to winning.
I close my eyes, steeling myself for what’s coming next. “Where are you?” I ask, knowing I won’t like the answer.
The line crackles with my father’s hesitation, and I can almost see him weighing his options, calculating his next move. My fingers tighten around the phone, knuckles white with tension.
“Look, sweetheart,” he begins, his voice dripping with honey. “I may have... borrowed a bit more than I initially mentioned. But I promise you that it will be worth it.” My father’s voice lowers and dips into his cajoling tone. “I did this for you, baby. I want to double your money so you can have a better quality of life in L.A. It’s a tough city, and I don’t want my baby girl living in a dangerous neighborhood.”