1. LEIGH

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 know exactly who’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’t sweetheart me,“ I snarl. “My account is empty. Every last penny is gone. And we both know you’re the 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 back tonight .”

“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, dear dad 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.”

“Save it,” I snarl, cutting through his bullshit. “You didn’t do this for me. This is all about you chasing that fucking pot of gold on a poker rainbow. You stole from me, your own daughter, to feed your sick habit. How could you?”

He sighs, a sound I’ve heard a thousand times before—the prelude to another elaborate excuse. “Now, Leigh, that’s not fair. I also distinctly remember asking you about this little loan. Remember? Yesterday, at breakfast?”

My blood runs hot. This man’s audacity continues to amaze me. “You’re unbelievable,” I hiss. “Mentioning in passing that you might need to ‘borrow’ some cash is not the same as giving you permission to clean out my account!”

“Come on princess,” my father wheedles. “You know I wouldn’t do this unless it was a sure thing. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Stop,” I grit through my clenched teeth. “Just stop. Dad, you went too far. This isn’t some game where you can charm your way out of trouble. This is my future you’re gambling away.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve finally gotten through to him. But then my father speaks, and I realize it’s just another calculated move in his endless con.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Leigh,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. “But I think you’ll change your mind once you hear what I’ve got planned. Why don’t you meet me at The Diamond Hotel, and we can discuss this face-to-face?”

I close my eyes, fighting the urge to scream. The Diamond Hotel and Casino—of course. Where else would he be?

“Have you already bet all the money away?”

“Meet me at the casino,” My father hedges, his silence saying more than his words.

“Fine,” I snap, gripping my ankle strap. “But this isn’t a negotiation, Dad. I’m coming for my money, and that’s it. I swear to fucking God, if you’ve already lost so much as a penny of it…”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” my father’s voice drips with honey-coated desperation. “You’ll be thanking me at the end of the evening. Right now, there is a high-stakes game going on in the Diamond VIP room. I’m talking about life-changing money.”

As the pieces click into place, my blood begins to boil. “You’ve already bought into the game with my money haven’t you?” I seethe, sitting on the sofa, securing my ankle strap. “My hard-earned cash is probably sitting in some mobster’s pocket right now.”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” he backpedals, but I can hear the lie in his voice. “I simply require a little more time and your presence. You’ve always been my lucky charm.”

I laugh, but it’s a harsh, bitter sound. “Lucky charm? Is that what you call the daughter you’ve used as a pawn in your schemes for years?”

“Come on Leigh—one more chance. With you here, I can win the pot. Think of what you can do in L.A. with twice or maybe even three times what you’d saved—“

“No.” My voice slices through his excuses, steely with resolve. “I’m done being your good luck charm, your safety net, or whatever the hell you want to call it. I’m only coming to the Diamond for one reason—to get my money back, and you’d better be standing there with fifteen thousand dollars in your hand.”

“But Leigh—“

I push myself up from the sofa. “Save it. I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up, my hand shaking with fury. As I grab my keys, I make a silent vow. This is the last time my father derails my life. I’m getting my money back, and then I’m gone—for good!

I snatch my purse from the coffee table, my mind racing. The familiar weight of it grounds me as I rummage through its contents: pearl pink tinted lip balm, pepper spray, a handful of crumpled bills—check. My fingers brush the cool metal of my lockpick set. I hesitate, then leave it be. You never know!

“Fucking bastard’s head’s going to roll if he’s lost my money,” I mutter, crouching to secure my phone in the ankle strap—a trick I picked up over the years. The device fits snugly against my skin, serving as a secret lifeline in case of an emergency and keeping me safe from pickpockets.

As I straighten, my gaze falls on the bus ticket on the table beside the front door. It’s sitting on top of a magazine about Los Angeles. The glossy images of glamorous shoppers and sun-soaked beaches mock me, reminding me that my bright future is slipping through my fingers.

“Not today,” I growl, tearing my eyes away. “I’m not letting my father steal another minute of my life.”

My mind races as I fly out of the apartment, accidentally slamming the door. “Sorry Mrs. Launders,” I yell, knowing the old busybody will give me another twenty-minute lecture on why young ladies shouldn’t slam doors if I don’t.

Before the old bat can emerge from her apartment, I am down the stairs and through the security door faster than Speedy Gonzales. As I barrel onto the sidewalk, I nearly collide with Tony Molteno’s broad chest. The warm aroma of fresh bread wraps around me, momentarily dulling the sharp edge of my anger and making my mouth water.

“Whoa there, firecracker!” Tony chuckles, steadying me with a gentle hand. His father, Luigi, peers over his shoulder, concern etched on his weathered face.

“Everything okay, Leigh?” Luigi asks, his thick Italian accent wrapping around the words. “You look like you’re about to go to war.”

I force a smile, but it feels brittle on my face. “Just taking care of some family business. Nothing I haven’t done a million times before.”

Tony’s warm brown eyes narrow, seeing right through my bravado. “Your dad again, huh? You know we’re here if you need anything, right?”

For a moment, the genuine care in their voices threatens to crack my resolve. These two have been more family to me than my father ever was. But I can’t drag them into this mess.

“I appreciate it, really,” I say, injecting as much conviction into my voice as I can muster. “But I’ll be fine.” I’m not so sure about my father, though, especially since he is probably already squandering my money.

Luigi opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off with a quick kiss on the cheek. “I promise I’ll be careful. Now, excuse me, I have a rat to catch.”

As I brush past them, my determination solidifies into something cold and hard in my chest. There will be no mercy tonight for dear old Dad—tonight, he learns what it means to steal from me!

Tony’s hand catches my elbow gently, his touch warm and familiar. “Leigh, wait,” he says, his voice low and urgent. “I know that look in your eyes. Whatever you’re planning, maybe I should go with you.”

I hesitate, caught between my need for independence and the genuine concern radiating from both men. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I repeat, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. “And I promise if I need bail money, you’re the first people I’ll call.” I try to make a joke, but it’s not that funny when I am actually thinking about the different ways I want to kill my father.

Luigi steps closer, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Mia cara, you don’t have to face everything alone. We’re here, always.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow hard. “I know, and I love you both for it. But...”

“Yes, yes, it’s nothing you can’t handle.” Tony sighs, releasing my arm. “At least promise us you’ll call if things go sideways. Day or night, we’ll be there.”

“I’ll bring the shovel,” Luigi smiles and winks.

I nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. “I promise. Now, I really need to go.”

“I’ll get a cab for you.” Tony steps to the curb and lets out a sharp whistle. A yellow cab screeches to a halt beside us.

“Pop into the bakery in the morning,” Tony says, holding the cab door as I slide into the back seat. “I’ll have a fresh loaf of your favorite bread waiting for you.”

I smile at him, fighting back tears. “You guys are too good to me,” I murmur, hating how my voice wavers.

Before Tony closes the door, Luigi calls out, “Remember, bambina, one phone call!”

I wave, forcing a smile. The warmth of their kindness lingers, a stark contrast to the cold determination settling in my gut. I’m grateful for their support, but a part of me resents needing it at all.

My father’s face flashes in my mind, and my jaw clenches—time to end this once and for all.

“Where to?” The cab driver asks, glancing at me in the mirror.

“The Diamond Hotel and Casino,” I tell him.

The cab’s tires crunch over loose gravel as we pull away from the curb. I lean my head against the cool glass, watching the familiar streets blur past. My fingers tap an anxious rhythm on my thigh as I wonder what the fuck I’m walking into and hope to God I get there before there is not a cent left.

“Why does this always happen?” I mutter under my breath. “I just want to be able to live my life and reach for my dreams.”

The fear of being trapped in Las Vegas makes me shudder.

The cabbie’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror. “You say somethin’, miss?”

I shake my head, forcing a tight smile. “Just talking to myself. Bad habit.”

He shrugs, turning his attention back to the road. I close my eyes as memories of my life flash through my mind of all the times I was forced to play my father’s games.

My stomach churns thinking about how many good people I have duped out of their hard-earned money to avoid disappointing my father. It still makes me cringe at how his eyes could turn from warm to ice cold in a heartbeat if I didn’t do what he asked or get enough money from a mark—he’s little performing monkey keeping the crowd occupied so he could rob them blind.

I don’t know who’s up there looking out for me, but I thank my guardian angels every day for me landing that scholarship to UNLV. It turned my life around and finally showed me my worth. It gave me the courage to say no to my father.

I want a better life and don’t want to end up like him—a worthless grifter. I’m no longer a pawn in his schemes. He’s on his own. I thought he was doing better over the last two years, since he moved into staff quarters at the Diamond hotel, and he started working as a concierge.

I invited him to breakfast yesterday to let him know I was leaving, not to give him an opportunity to rob me and gamble away my dreams.

Two days. That’s all I had left before I was supposed to be on a bus to LA, leaving this cesspool behind. Now here I am, racing towards the very man I’ve been trying to escape, praying I can salvage what’s left of my dreams.

The cab jerks to a stop at a red light, and my neck snaps. Great, that’s all I need—whiplash.

“You okay back there?” the cabbie asks, his brow furrowed with concern.

I meet his gaze in the mirror. “I will be,” I say, more to myself than to him. “One way or another, this ends tonight.” Even if I don’t get my money back—from this night forward, my father is dead to me.

The cab jerks forward at the light, weaving toward the Strip—a pulsing artery of greed wrapped in neon glamour. Neon lights blaze against the night sky, relentless and suffocating, like the stench of desperation that clings to the sidewalks. Tourists swarm the area like moths to a flame, chasing the promise of luck and luxury, while locals prowl the edges, hardened by a city that chews up dreams and spits out despair.

I stare out the window, my stomach churning with disdain. The towering casinos loom like glittering cathedrals of excess, each facade screaming louder than the last. We drive past giants—The Bellagio with its glimmering fountains, The Venetian with its faux canals and plastic charm—until the cab slows in front of the biggest trap of them all.

The Diamond Hotel and Casino looms ahead, center stage in this parade of decadence. Its glittering facade reflects the fountains below, a perfect mirage promising riches and escape. But I know better. This place doesn’t just take your money—it devours your soul.

As the cab approaches the curb, I check the meter, pull some cash from my purse and hand it to the driver.

“Good luck in there,” the cabbie says.

“Thanks.” I slide out and mutter, “But it’s not me who will need it tonight.”