Due this Thursday.
If I don’t pay? The family home is gone.
Evaporated. Signed away. Put into the slimy, greedy hands of Peggy and Mike, who have been circling like vultures waiting for me to slip up.
I can already hear the condescending voicemail Peggy will leave—“Bella, sweetheart, we gave you every chance to be responsible, but obviously, this is too much for you. We’ll take it from here.”
I clench my jaw so hard my teeth might snap.
That cannot happen.
I’ve spent thirteen years fighting for that house. It’s not just a house—it’s my parents’ legacy. It’s the only home Julian and Lila have ever truly known. Losing it means uprooting them. Losing it means letting Peggy and Mike win.
And now, thanks to James pulling a goddamn disappearing act, I’m officially $12,486 short, with four days to come up with it.
Credit card? Maxed.
Court fees? Pending.
Groceries? Who needs food when you can survive off sheer financial anxiety?
I slam my phone down on my desk. “Okay. Okay. Someone needs to do something. Did anyone call the cops?”
Sandra snorts, rubbing her forehead like she has a migraine. “Oh, yeah, let me just call them up real quick. ‘Hi, 911? Our boss pulled a Houdini, and now we’re unemployed. What do you mean that’s not a crime?’”
I rub my temples, trying to breathe through the full-body terror flooding my veins.
Think, Bella. THINK.
The commissions are gone. My paycheck is gone. The company is gone.
My entire goddamn job justvanished overnight.
My career is a dumpster fire.
And I have exactly four hundred and eighty dollars to my name.
I sit down, head in my hands.
This cannot be happening.
Sandra sighs, slumping into a chair. “Well. Looks like we’re all unemployed now.”
Jenna laughs again—the kind of unhinged, high-pitched laughter that says she is about two seconds from losing it completely.
Mark leans back in his chair, eyes on the ceiling. “I should’ve gone to law school.”
I stare blankly at my screen, at the emails still rolling in. Client requests, deals that will never go through now, my entire pipeline just—gone.
I close my eyes. Take a deep breath.
And scream internally for a solid thirty seconds.
The office is still in full meltdown mode when the front doors swing open.
Not a knock. Not a buzz. Just—opened.
Like whoever just walked in didn’t need permission. Didn’t need to ask.
