Chapter 5
1137 Words
"Hello, Mr. Hastings? Yes, it’s Scarlet Wilde... I'm calling about the loan I applied for. The one for five hundred thousand dollars."
I pressed the phone tighter against my ear, cradling it between my shoulder and cheek as I opened my creaky old wardrobe. Just a few worn shirts and faded jeans stared back at me. Ryan had bought them when I was still in the hospital, years ago. Comfortable, yes. Office-appropriate? Not even close.
"Yes, I understand the interest rate. No, I’m not backing out," I said quickly, watching my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. I looked more like someone going through a breakup than someone about to storm back into the corporate world with vengeance in her chest.
I needed this money. If I was going to stand a chance against Lysander Thorne and Seraphina, I needed to look the part. I needed to live like an executive personal assistant, not a woman who had been tucked away for five years.
"I’ll be in your office soon," I concluded, trying to keep my voice firm. "Thank you."
I ended the call, letting out a long breath as I clutched the phone to my chest. My feet started pacing across the tiny apartment Ryan had rented for me. My steps were sharp, anxious, and I chewed on the edge of my thumb as thoughts raced.
Five hundred thousand dollars. That was no small sum. And they were asking for a collateral.
What did I have? Nothing. Everything I once owned had been stripped away. My eyes flicked to my purse, where my new ID rested. New name. New life. That also meant none of the assets I once had legally belonged to me now.
Then it hit me.
My late parents' house. The white bungalow on Chestnut Drive.
For a moment, a small wave of relief washed over me. But it vanished as quickly as it came. My name was no longer on any legal document. Seraphina must've changed it all. Legally, it was her house now.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. I blinked, then headed over, brushing my fingers through my hair.
I opened the door.
"Look who’s here!"
My best friend, Amanda, stood there, grinning like a Cheshire cat, holding a bottle of red wine in one hand and a tote bag slung over her shoulder.
"Amanda ," I said, surprised. "Did we have plans?"
"Nope. But we do now."
She walked in like she owned the place, heading straight to the kitchen.
We met at the hospital years ago. She was a nurse, smart-mouthed and kind-hearted. Over time, our bond grew from casual conversations during my checkups to movie nights and wine therapy. Amanda and Ryan were the only two people who made life bearable. Without them, I had no idea where I’d be.
She popped open the wine with a loud pop, then grabbed two dusty glass cups from my top shelf.
"Did I miss my birthday or something?" I joked.
"Even better," she grinned, pouring the wine. "You got the job at ThornTech! This calls for a celebration. You’re finally out of this cage. You deserve this."
I smiled faintly, accepting the glass. If only she knew why I really took that job, I thought.
"Thanks, Amanda ," I said aloud. "You’re the best."
"I know."
We clinked glasses and took a sip. The wine was cheap but sweet. We sat on the couch, shoes off, legs curled, talking about everything and nothing.
"So, you’re really working under Lysander Thorne now," Amanda said, raising a brow. "Is he as hot as the rumors say?"
"He’s... a walking ego in a suit," I replied dryly.
She laughed. "That sounds like a yes."
I glanced at the wall clock. 2:45 PM. My appointment was at 3:30. I stood up abruptly, almost spilling the wine.
"I have to go. Loan office. You good to lock up when you leave?"
"Yep. I have a date with a face mask and trashy TV. Don't worry you’re free to go."
"Thanks, babe. I owe you."
"You owe me a box of donuts. No excuses."
We hugged quickly, and I stepped out, hailing a cab just outside the apartment. The city was humid, loud, and buzzing with people who had places to be.
The loan office was a sleek building with tinted windows and way too much air conditioning. A man in a navy-blue suit stood behind a glass desk, adjusting his glasses as I walked in.
"Ms. Wilde? We’ve been expecting you," he said, shaking my hand. "Please, right this way."
His office was minimalist but cold. I sat on the leather chair opposite him, doing my best to look composed.
"So, Five hundred thousand dollars," he started, flipping through a file with my name. "You understand the repayment terms, interest rates, and the collateral requirements?"
"Yes. And I have a property to offer."
"Great. Let me get the details."
I hesitated for a second. Then I said it.
"It’s a house on Chestnut Drive. Belonged to my family. My sister's name is currently on the title, but it was transferred under suspicious circumstances. I'm in the process of reclaiming it."
The man blinked.
"You're offering a property that isn't legally in your name, Ms. Wilde?"
"It was mine. It was taken while I was hospitalized. My sister had access to my documents. She used it. Illegally."
He looked unconvinced. "Do you have any legal backing for that?"
I kept my voice calm. "Not yet. But I will. I’m working with a lawyer. There are witnesses, and once we push the case, the ownership will revert to me. All I need is a little time."
He tapped his pen against the desk, assessing me like I was a stock chart.
"This is highly irregular. If the house isn’t in your name, we technically can’t list it as collateral."
"Please," I said, my voice dropping. "I know how this sounds. But I have plans. Real ones. I’m starting a new job at ThornTech. My pay is solid. My records are clean. I just need the chance."
He studied me. I let him. I knew what he saw—a woman with desperation behind her eyes, but fire too. I wasn’t some unstable risk. I was a storm waiting to rise.
Finally, he sighed.
"We can file it under conditional collateral. You have sixty days to present legal proof of ownership. Otherwise, the agreement is null."
Relief flooded me. I tried to keep my smile modest.
"That works. Thank you."
"Don’t thank me yet. If the property isn’t yours by then, we take other steps to recover our money. Understand?"
"Understood."
As I signed the documents, a thought burned in my chest. She stole my house. My life. My man. Now, I’m taking it all back.
- Writer
