FINAL DEBT

Your house is empty. On a lonely table, a tablet glows with a OneNote page from your dad: "I owed the Don. I traded your military skills for my life. You belong to the mafia now." Footsteps echo. The Don steps inside, flanked by armed men. He looks at you coldly. "Your father's debt is paid," he says, pointing out the window to an SUV where a young woman sits. "Let's go."