Loosing it All
1646 Words
Dominic
The numbers don’t lie, but I keep staring at them anyway, hoping they’ll somehow rearrange themselves into something less catastrophic.
The company needs a capital injection. Now. Not next quarter, not next month. The Crawford loss created a domino effect I didn’t anticipate. Two more clients followed them out the door, spooked by the ownership change and Adrian’s involvement. Revenue is down thirty-two percent. Operating costs remain fixed. The math is simple and brutal.
I need half a million dollars to keep the doors open long enough to stabilize.
The bank won’t extend more credit. I’m already leveraged to my limit, my personal assets tied up in Elena’s treatments and keeping the company afloat this long. Adrian sits on thirty percent of my company, watching me bleed out, probably enjoying every second of it.
There’s only one asset left that’s worth enough and liquid enough to solve this problem.
The lake house.
Elena and I bought it five years ago, back when the company was thriving and her diagnosis was still years away. A beautiful property two hours north, right on the water. We had plans for it. Summers there. Eventually retiring there. Growing old watching sunsets over the lake.
All fantasies now. We haven’t been there in over a year. It sits empty, costing me property taxes and maintenance I can’t afford, while I desperately need the equity it represents.
I walk into the house with the sales contract in my briefcase, dreading this conversation but knowing I don’t have a choice.
Elena is in the living room, curled up in the armchair with a book. She looks up when I enter, and something in my expression makes her set the book aside.
“We need to talk,” I say, setting my briefcase down.
“That sounds ominous.” She pulls the blanket tighter around herself. “What’s wrong?”
“The company is in trouble. Serious trouble. I need to liquidate some assets.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Which assets?”
“The lake house.” I pull out the contract, hating the way her face immediately hardens. “It’s worth six hundred thousand, maybe more. I can have it sold within a month if you sign the papers.”
“No.”
The word is simple, absolute, and completely unexpected.
“Elena, you don’t understand. The company needs this. Without it, I’m going to have to start making cuts that will destroy everything I’ve built.”
“Then make cuts. Find another way. But I’m not selling the lake house.”
“There is no other way.” I move closer, forcing calm into my voice. “I’ve exhausted every option. The bank won’t give me more credit. I can’t pull from our retirement accounts without massive penalties. The lake house is the only thing that’s worth enough and available enough to solve this.”
“Take a loan from the bank.”
“I just told you they won’t extend more credit.”
“Then find a different bank. Restructure. Do whatever you need to do with the business.” She stands, the blanket falling away. “But you’re not selling my house.”
“Our house,” I correct. “We bought it together.”
“With money my father gave us for our wedding. Money that was meant to be our future, our security. And now you want to throw it away to save a company that’s already failing.”
The words land like a slap. “It’s not failing. It’s going through a rough patch because of circumstances beyond my control.”
“Adrian.”
“Yes, Adrian. Your precious Adrian who keeps circling and undermining and destroying everything he touches.”
“He’s your business partner now. Maybe you should ask him for the money instead of demanding I give up the one thing I have left.”
The suggestion makes rage spike hot and immediate in my chest. “Don’t insult me.”
“I’m not insulting you. I’m being practical. He has money. He’s invested in the company. It makes sense.”
“It makes sense for me to go crawling to that bastard and beg him for help? To give him even more power over me?” My voice rises despite myself. “Is that what you want? To watch him humiliate me?”
“I want you to find a solution that doesn’t involve selling my house.” Her voice stays level, controlled, and somehow that makes it worse. “And if that means swallowing your pride and asking your business partner for a loan, then yes. Do that.”
“I won’t. I’m not giving him that satisfaction.”
“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.” She crosses her arms. “Because I’m not signing those papers. Not now. Not ever.”
“Elena, be reasonable.”
“I am being reasonable. You’re the one being unreasonable. Letting your pride destroy everything rather than accept help that’s being offered.”
“What help? Adrian isn’t offering anything out of kindness. Everything he does is calculated to make me look weak.”
“Or maybe,” Elena says quietly, “he’s just trying to be a decent human being. Which is more than I can say for you lately.”
The accusation hits harder than it should. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you told me to die. Twice. It means you can barely stand to be in the same room with me. It means every time you look at me, I can see the resentment in your eyes.” Her voice cracks slightly. “So forgive me if I don’t trust your judgment right now.”
“This isn’t about us. This is about the company.”
“Everything is about us!” She’s shouting now, composure finally breaking. “Your company, my illness, the money, the house. It’s all connected. And you’re so focused on your pride and your control that you can’t see you’re destroying the few things we have left.”
“I’m trying to save us.”
“By selling the one place we were actually happy? The one thing we built together before everything turned to s**t?” She laughs bitterly. “That’s not saving us, Dominic. That’s erasing us.”
I open my mouth to argue but she cuts me off.
“And speaking of which, I won’t be here to sign anything anyway. I’m leaving for treatment next week.”
The shift catches me off guard. “What treatment?”
“Switzerland. The facility Adrian researched. The immunotherapy trial.” She says it like I should know this, like we discussed it. “I’ll be gone at least a week, maybe two depending on the protocol.”
“We can’t afford out of country treatment right now.”
“I know. That’s why Adrian is covering it.”
The words hit like a physical blow. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s already arranged.”
“Then unarrange it. You’re not taking money from him.”
“This is my life we’re talking about, Dominic. My chance at survival. And you’re worried about your ego?”
“I’m worried about that bastard using your illness to humiliate me. To insert himself further into our lives. Can’t you see what he’s doing?”
“What I see is someone offering me a chance to live while my own husband tells me to die.” The words are ice. “So yes, I’m going. I’m taking his help. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“The hell there isn’t. You’re not going. That’s final.”
“You don’t get to make that decision.” She steps closer, and there’s steel in her voice I’ve never heard before. “I’m going to Switzerland. I’m taking the treatment. And you can either support me or get out of my way. But you don’t get to control this.”
“He’s paying for it to control you. To control both of us.”
“Or maybe he’s paying for it because he actually wants me to live. Which is more than you seem to want.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? You told me to die. You can barely look at me without disgust. You resent every dollar spent keeping me alive.” Her voice breaks. “At least Adrian pretends to give a damn whether I survive this.”
“I’m your husband.”
“Then act like it!” She’s crying now, and I don’t know if it’s rage or pain or both. “Stop thinking about your pride and your company and your hatred of Adrian for five seconds and think about me. About what I need. About the fact that I’m dying and desperate enough to accept help from anyone who offers it.”
“You’re not dying. Not yet. And you’re definitely not letting him pay for some experimental treatment that probably won’t even work.”
The cruelty in my own words registers too late.
Her face goes pale. “Get out.”
“Elena…”
“Get out of this house. Right now. I can’t stand to look at you.”
“I’m not leaving. This is my house too.”
“Then I’ll leave.” She’s already moving toward the stairs. “I’ll go to a hotel. Stay there until Switzerland. I don’t care. I just need to not be around you right now.”
“Elena, wait.”
But she’s gone, footsteps heavy on the stairs, bedroom door slamming hard enough to rattle the frames on the walls.
I stand in the empty living room, the sales contract still in my hand, and feel everything slipping through my fingers.
The company. The marriage. Control of my own life.
- Writer
