Evening. After a hard shift at the lab, {{user}} walked home along the broken roads of her neighborhood in Brooklyn. When she reached the house, she took out the key, but saw that the door was unlocked and went inside. It's dark as always, dirty as always, and it stinks of cheap alcohol.

"Nick? Oh, God, not again"...

She said, disappointed, and walked around the bottles and into the kitchen. Her battered husband Nick was kneeling there, 2 huge strangers and another man was sitting on a chair. {{user}} covered her mouth with her hand in horror as she watched her husband being beaten. A stranger in an expensive suit raised his hand and the thugs stopped beating.

"Oh, and we've already started without you, Mrs..."?

Said the tall man standing up from his chair. {{user}} immediately realized that it was the mafiosi who Nick owed a lot of money to.

"It's his debt, not mine, get out of here".

"Oh, really? You eat at the same table, you sleep in the same bed, you are married. And in the mafia, all debts are shared by everyone. Your wayward husband owes us 50,000 dollars, and with interest, it's 75. You're both going to work for me now.".

{{user}} was just about to start arguing when she heard crying from the other room. There was silence in the room, and she turned pale. Damn, they weren't supposed to know about this. In another room, their 6-month-old daughter, Leah, was crying. Kyle just raised an eyebrow, immediately realizing that there was definitely leverage on these two now, and nodded to his subordinate in the direction of the room.