WHY ME

Chapter 1: A Heavy Load

Elara's Point of View

The diner smelled like coffee and burnt toast. I felt so much pain in my feet as I moved between tables, carrying a tray of dirty plates. My belly felt heavy, like I was carrying a big ball inside me. Five months pregnant, and every step made me to feel pain. I was only 23, but I felt way older, like I have been running forever and still had nowhere to go.

"Elara, table six needs water!" my boss, Mr. Jenkins, barked from behind the counter. His voice was sharp, like a dog yapping.

"Yes, sir," I said, biting my lip. I grabbed a pitcher, the cold handle biting my palm, and I moved to the table. The couple there didn't even look up from their phones. I poured the water, my hands shaking a little. I was so tired. My shift had started at six in the morning, and it was already past noon. My back screamed for a break, but I couldn't stop. Rent was due, and the bills kept piling up like a tower of blocks that might fall any second.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Two more hours. I could do this. I had to. For the baby. My hand rested on my belly for a moment, feeling a tiny kick. It made me smile, even though my heart was racing with worry. I didn't know how I'd take care of a kid when I could barely take care of myself.

"Elara, move it!" Mr. Jenkins shout again. I hurried back to the counter, nearly tripping over a chair. A woman at table four waved her hand, holding an empty coffee mug like it was a trophy.

"More coffee, please," she said, not even looking at me. I nodded and grabbed the pot, the steam warming my face as I poured. My apron was stained with ketchup and grease, and my hair was falling out of its ponytail. I felt like a mess, but I kept going. I always kept going.

At the counter, I slipped into the back for a second to catch my breath. My friend Lucy, another waitress, was there, chewing gum and wiping a glass.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her eyes soft. She was the only one here who didn't treat me like I was invisible.

"I'm fine," I lied, leaning against the wall. My shoes felt like they were glued to the floor. "Just tired."

"You're doing too much," Lucy said, popping her gum. "You need to rest. For the baby."

"I can't," I said, my voice small. "If I don't work, I don't eat. And the baby needs me to be strong."

Lucy frowned but didn't say anything else. She knew I was stubborn. I'd been on my own since I was eighteen, after growing up in foster homes that never felt like home. I didn't know my dad, and my mom died when I was a baby. All I had was me, and now this little one growing inside me. I didn't even remember the guy from that night five months ago. It was a blur of music, drinks, and mistakes. But I wasn't going to let my kid pay for it.

The bell above the diner door jingled, and I peeked out. A man walked in, tall and dressed in a fancy black suit, like he just stepped out of a movie. His hair was dark, and his face was serious, like he never smiled. He looked around, his eyes scanning the room, and for a second, they locked on me. My stomach flipped, but not the good kind. Something about him made me nervous, like he knew something I didn't.

"New customer," Lucy whispered to me. "Go get him."

I sighed and grabbed a menu, walking over to his table. He sat in the corner, away from everyone else. Up close, he was even more intense. His eyes were dark, like a storm, and his hands were folded neatly on the table, like he was waiting for something important.

"Hi, welcome to Joe's Diner," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "Here's your menu. Can I get you something to drink?"

He didn't touch the menu. He just looked at me, his eyes sharp. "Coffee. Black," he said. His voice was deep, like it came from somewhere far away.

"Sure thing," I said, scribbling on my notepad even though it was an easy order. I turned to walk away, but he spoke again.

"Elara Hayes, right?"

I froze, my heart beating. How did he know my name? I turned back slowly, gripping my notepad tight. "Yeah, that's me. Do I know you?"

He didn't smile. "No, you don't. But I know you."

My mouth went dry. I didn't like this. Not one bit. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice shaking a little.

He leaned forward, his hands still folded. "I know you're in trouble. Debts. Bills. A baby on the way. It's a lot for one person."

I stepped back, my face getting hot. "That's none of your business," I snapped. I didn't know this guy, and I didn't like him poking into my life. "Do you want anything else, or just the coffee?"

He didn't flinch. "I'm here to help you, Elara. I can make things easier for you and your child."

I laughed, but it sounded more like a cough. "Help me? I don't even know you! Why would you care?"

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card, sliding it across the table. It was plain white with just a name and a number: *Dante Sinclair*. "Think about it," he said. "You don't have to do this alone."

I stared at the card, my hands trembling. I wanted to throw it back at him, tell him to leave me alone. But something stopped me. The way he looked at me, like he saw right through me, made my chest tight. I shoved the card in my apron pocket and walked away without another word.

The rest of my shift was a blur. I spilled a soda on table seven, forgot an order for table three, and kept feeling his eyes on me from the corner. When he finally left, he didn't say anything else, just dropped a twenty on the table for a two-dollar coffee. I pocketed the tip, my hands still shaky.

After my shift, I sat in the back, counting my tips. Thirty bucks. Not enough to cover the electric bill, let alone everything else. I pulled out the card from my pocket and stared at it. *Dante Sinclair*. Who was he? Why did he know so much about me? And why did he think he could help?

I walked home through the chilly night, my coat barely keeping me warm. My tiny apartment was just a few blocks away, but every step felt like a mile. My belly ached, and my mind wouldn't stop spinning. I didn't trust this Dante guy, but I couldn't stop thinking about what he said. *You don't have to do this alone.*

When I got home, I locked the door and sank onto my lumpy couch. The apartment was quiet, except for the hum of the fridge. I put my hand on my belly, feeling another tiny kick. "We're gonna be okay, little one," I whispered. But I wasn't sure I believed it.

I pulled out my phone and typed the name *Dante Sinclair* into the search bar. My heart stopped when the results loaded. Page after page about a billionaire businessman, one of the richest guys in the country. Pictures of him in fancy suits, shaking hands with important people. My hands shook as I scrolled. This was the guy from the diner? Why was someone like him talking to me?

Before I could think too hard, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. I opened it, my breath catching.

*Elara, meet me tomorrow at the park on 5th Street. Noon. I have an offer you can't refuse. - Dante*

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding. An offer? What kind of offer? I wanted to delete the message, block the number, forget I ever met him. But deep down, I knew I couldn't. Not when I was drowning. Not when my baby needed me to be strong.

I set the phone down, my hands shaking. Tomorrow, I'd hear him out. Just to see what he wanted. But as I sat there in the dark, a cold feeling crept over me. What if this offer wasn't a way out, but a trap?