Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
The room smelled of stale heater dust and old synthetic carpet, a stark departure from the polished hardwood of Elmwood Avenue.
I sat on the edge of the mattress, my fingers touching the cold metal of my wristwatch, and pulled it one notch tighter against my wrist.
I did not open the drawer to look for extra pillows or check the television.
I opened the spreadsheet containing the schedule of liabilities I had managed over the last seven months.
The screen illuminated the beige walls and the small, dark space of my temporary quarters.
A plastic cup sat on the sink, wrapped in a thin paper sleeve, and I filled it with tap water that tasted of iron before sitting back down.
My personal savings account was nearly empty, but the ninety-five thousand dollars I had just transferred was not a gift.
I had structured the payment as a secured loan directly to Webb Consulting, backed by the company’s remaining assets and Marcus’s personal shares.
He had signed the agreement in the kitchen without looking at the secondary pages, eager only for the cash to clear his immediate defaults.
