Chapter 2
2239 Words
Toria cried until her head throbbed on the walk back to her apartment. She wiped her cheeks with her jacket sleeve as she climbed the third-floor stairs.
Her eyes were swollen and her makeup was ruined. She couldn’t care less. She tried to block Steve out of her mind during the entire walk home, but his words kept replaying in her skull anyway.
“You were never good enough for the life I want.”
How convenient.
Four years of her life vanished into thin air, and she realized she had only been a stepping stone for him. Toria unlocked her front door and pushed it open.
Her tiny living room welcomed her with the same battered couch, the same wobbly secondhand coffee table, and the same towering stack of past-due bills she had been ignoring.
Coming home used to feel like a haven. Tonight, the silence felt heavy and exhausting. She dropped her bag onto the cushions and kicked her heels off. Her feet hurt badly, but the physical pain felt less painful than the emotional pain felt.
She walked into the kitchen, pulled the fridge door open, stared at the empty shelves for a long second, and slammed it shut. There was nothing to eat.
She grabbed a plastic water bottle instead and leaned her back against the cool counter.
She stood there in the dark for a long time.
Then she started crying again.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
She covered her face with her hands. “Pull yourself together, Toria.”
She had survived much worse blows than a cheating boyfriend. At least, she thought she had.
Her father had fought through financial ruin for years. Her mother vanished into thin air when Toria was just a little girl, leaving her father to raise her alone.
He worked himself to the bone, borrowed money from shady places when things got desperate, and swore up and down that better days were coming. Those days never arrived.
He died nearly a year ago. He left behind a crumbling house, a mountain of overdue notices, and too many questions. Toria spent the last twelve months just trying to survive.
She worked daytime shifts at a local fashion boutique and picked up evening waitress shifts at Bellmont whenever they needed extra hands. The money was barely enough to survive.
She hoarded every spare coin she could manage because that house was the only tangible piece of her father she had left. She could not afford to lose it. Her phone vibrated loudly against the counter.
She flinched because she expected another text from the mysterious unknown number.
The screen displayed Steve's name instead. “Can we talk?
She glared at the glowing words. A second message flashed right below it. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Save your breath.” She said as she swiped the notifications away and blocked his number.
Her phone vibrated in her palm immediately afterward. An incoming call lit up the screen.
Caller ID read “Unknown Number.”
Toria frowned. She almost tapped the decline button before her thumb slid to answer.
“Hello?”
No response, just silence came from the other end.
“Hello?”
A deep male voice finally broke the silence.
“Is this Toria?”
“Who is this?”
My name is Daniel Foster. Toria quickly paid attention. “Okay.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“I am calling regarding the estate of your late father.”
She felt a knot in her stomach.
“My father’s estate?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to come down to my office tomorrow morning, there are some documents requiring your immediate review.”
“What kind of documents?”
A brief, agonizing pause stretched over the line.
“Documents concerning an outstanding financial obligation attached to the property you inherited.”
Toria’s grip on the phone turned white-hot.
“Financial obligation?”
“Yes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I prefer discussing these matters in person.”
“No.”
“You called my phone so you can explain it right now.”
Another uncomfortable silence filled the air, once again.
“Your father accumulated significant debts.”
Toria just stared blankly at the kitchen wall. She knew he borrowed money in the past. She knew he struggled to keep them afloat. She never imagined the situation involved lawyers and formal estates.
“How much?” She said forcibly.
“I believe we should discuss figures tomorrow.”
Toria exhaled deeply.
“Fine.”
“What time?”
“Nine o’clock sharp.”
“I will be there.”
The line went dead with a click. Toria stood frozen in the center of the kitchen. She lowered the phone slowly.
Unbelievable. As if getting humiliated at a restaurant was not enough misery for one evening.
She walked into the living room and fell to the sofa. Her eyes drifted toward a small wooden shelf near the television.
A framed photograph of her father smiled back at her. Toria reached out and picked the frame up.
“You just had to leave me with a massive mess, didn't you?”
A sad, hollow smile touched her lips. “I miss you so much.”
Her phone vibrated aggressively once again. A text message from her landlord showed on her screen.
“Toria, please remember your rent is due tomorrow, I cannot grant another extension.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Perfect, just perfect”
She threw the phone aside and leaned her head back against the couch. Tomorrow she would face whatever nightmare the lawyer cooked up. Tonight, she just wanted the nightmare to pause so she could sleep but sleep refused to cooperate.
The following morning, Toria walked into Daniel Foster’s downtown office twenty minutes early. She ran on zero hours of sleep. She spent the entire night staring at her bedroom ceiling, convincing herself the debt could not possibly ruin her life.
She lied to herself. The firm's receptionist escorted her down a quiet hallway into a sleek office where Daniel Foster waited behind a polished mahogany desk. The attorney stood up as she approached.
“Ms. Toria?”
“Yes.”
“I am Daniel Foster.”
They shared a brief, stiff handshake. He gestured toward a leather chair sitting opposite his desk.
“Please, take a seat.”
Toria sat down and the conversation started. Foster picked up a thick manila folder and centered it on the wood.
“I realize this meeting will be difficult.”
Toria stared directly at the folder.
“How bad is it?”
Foster hesitated, before responding.
“Your father borrowed funds from multiple private lenders.”
“What is the total?”
He opened the manila cover.
“The total outstanding balance rests at approximately three hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
Toria stared at him shocked and trying to bring herself to say something. For one second, she assumed her ears malfunctioned. Who wouldn’t?
“How much?”
“Three hundred and eighty thousand,” Foster repeated.
She laughed.
“Forgive me, but that is literally impossible.”
“I understand your disbelief.”
“My father never possessed three hundred and eighty thousand dollars in his entire lifetime.”
“He did not.”
“Then why are you sitting here telling me he owed that fortune?”
Foster folded his hands over the desk.
“The majority of the balance accumulated through high-interest business loans, mounting penalties, and unpaid interest over the years.”
Toria shook her head.
“No.”
“Ms. Toria”
“No.”
“My father never mentioned a single word of this to me.”
“I believe you.”
“Then what happens now?”
Foster’s expression hardened into professional sympathy.
“Because you accepted ownership of the property, the creditors hold a legal claim against the estate.”
Toria felt her stomach drop through the floorboards.
“The house?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She shook her head again, panic clawing at her throat.
“That house belongs to me.”
“Technically speaking, you inherited it directly from your father.”
“Exactly.”
“Inherited assets remain vulnerable to outstanding debts under state law.”
Toria stared at him in utter horror.
“Are you telling me they can steal my house?”
“If the balance remains unsettled, the court will authorize a seizure and force a public sale to recover the funds.”
Her mouth dried out completely.
“How much time do I have?”
“You received a formal legal notice weeks ago.”
“I threw it away because I thought it was junk mail.”
It was genuine. Toria slumped back against the leather upholstery. She suddenly recalled the crisp legal envelope sitting unopened on her kitchen counter. She dismissed it as another utility bill. She never even bothered to tear it open.
“How long?”
She choked out the question.
“Thirty days.”
Toria let out a shaky, trembling breath.
“Thirty days to produce three hundred and eighty thousand dollars.?”
“I am afraid so.”
She stared down at the terrifying folder. There was zero chance. She could sell every single possession she owned and still fall short by hundreds of thousands.
“I cannot do this.”
Foster remained silent.
“I do not have that kind of money.”
“I understand.”
“No, you do not understand anything.”
Her voice cracked under the weight of the panic.
“My father left me one small house and nothing else.”
“I have no secret savings accounts or wealthy relatives.”
“I work two miserable jobs just to keep food in the fridge.”
Foster offered a deeply sympathetic look.
“I know this feels insurmountable.”
“Feel insurmountable?”
She let out a harsh, humorless laugh.
“That word does not even cover what I feel right now.”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she forced them back down. She refused to break down in front of a stranger. Foster closed the folder with a soft thud.
“An alternative option might exist.”
Toria snapped her head up instantly.
“What option?”
“Before his passing, your father entered into a private business contract.”
“What kind of contract?”
“I lack the complete documentation at this moment.”
“Then what do you actually know?”
Foster hesitated.
“A specific name appears in the paperwork.” Toria narrowed her eyes.
“Whose name?”
He slid one of the loose papers across the desk toward her fingertips. Toria glanced down at the text. The name meant absolutely nothing to her.
Drey Carter.
She lifted her gaze back to the attorney.
“Who is that?”
Foster studied her reaction closely.
“He serves as the Chief Executive Officer of Carter Enterprises.”
Toria shook her head.
“I have never heard that name in my life.”
Foster looked genuinely stunned.
“He ranks among the most powerful corporate figures in this city.”
She shoved the paper back across the desk.
“What does some billionaire have to do with my father’s debt?”
Foster avoided answering immediately. His hesitation made Toria even more scared.
“Mr. Foster?”
He finally spoke.
“That remains the mystery I am trying to solve.”
Toria frowned deeply.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Your father’s financial ledger contains multiple mysterious transactions linked directly to Mr. Carter’s corporation.”
“None of them make logical sense.”
Toria stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you implying my father owed money to this Drey Carter person?”
“I never said that.”
“Then what?”
Foster closed the manila folder completely.
“I strongly advise you to tread very carefully regarding what you uncover.”
Toria stood up from the chair.
“I walked into this office because I demanded answers and I am warning you that you might despise the answers waiting for you.”
She glared at him.
“Why?”
Foster’s demeanor shifted entirely. For the first time since she arrived, she made Foster show genuine fear.
“Because your father’s financial debt might be the least dangerous thing he left behind.”
Tori felt her stomach drop. She snatched the strap of her handbag.
“What else is there?”
Foster kept his hands resting flat on the files.
“I do not know yet.”
“That statement offers zero comfort.”
“No, it does not.”
Toria turned sharply toward the office door. Her fingers brushed against the brass door handle when Foster called out again.
“Ms. Toria.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“Do not sell the house.”
She frowned.
“Why on earth not?”
Foster lowered his voice.
“Because someone else is actively trying to take it from you.”
Toria froze.
“Who?”
Foster said nothing more.
Standing in the quiet office, she realized the truth.
The battered house her father left behind wasn't just a financial burden. It was the exact reason someone wanted to destroy her life.
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