Chapter 1 - The Debt Collection
The elevator doors slid open with a metallic hiss, and Mr. Salas walked out.
He was a mountain of a man in a sharp charcoal suit.
Behind him were three other men, all of them looking like they belonged in a dark alley rather than my pristine living room.
Ricardo stood frozen, his face a mask of pure terror.
His hands were still raised, though his arrogance had evaporated into the humid Miami air.
“Which one is the husband?” Salas asked, his voice calm and terrifyingly polite.
I didn’t hesitate.
I pointed my finger directly at Ricardo.
“Him.”
Salas stepped forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight.
Ricardo backed away until he hit the balcony door.
“Salas, wait!” Ricardo stammered, his voice climbing an octave.
“I can get the money, I just need a little more time!”
Salas chuckled, a dry sound that had no humor in it.
“Time is something you stopped having three weeks ago, Ricardo.”
He looked around the room, taking in the spilled drinks and the cigarette butts.
“It seems you’ve been living quite well while you were busy stealing from me.”
The room was absolutely silent.
Every single one of Ricardo’s relatives was cowering on the sofa, their mouths hanging open in disbelief.
Teresa tried to speak, but Salas shot her a look that silenced her instantly.
“I’m not responsible for this anymore,” I said, walking to the middle of the room.
“And I am certainly not paying for his mistakes.”
Salas nodded, acknowledging my statement.
“I understand completely, Mrs. Mariana.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of documents.
“We are here for the collateral,” Salas stated.
“And since the business is bankrupt, we’ll be taking everything else.”
Ricardo’s knees buckled.
“Please, don’t take the car!” he begged.
“It’s all I have left for my sales meetings!”
Salas didn’t even look at him.
He looked at me, his eyes showing a strange flicker of respect.
“Is there anything in this room you would like to keep, Mrs. Mariana?”
I looked at the chaos they had made of my home.
Then I looked at the man who had slapped me.
“Take it all,” I said.
“Every single piece of furniture.”
“And get them out of my sight.”
Salas smiled and gestured to his men.
They began methodically clearing the room, as if they were picking up groceries.
Ricardo tried to stop them, but one look from Salas sent him cowering back into the corner.
His family was still frozen, their dreams of a free vacation in my home turning into a nightmare of public humiliation.
I stood in the center of it all, my bruised face throbbing with a rhythm that matched the beating of my own heart.
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For the first time in years, I didn't care what they thought.
The debts were finally being paid.
