Page 28 of Cruelly Fated
Iwoke to the sound of hammering in the distance. What were the neighbors up to now? Groaning, I scrubbed a hand down my face. The memories from yesterday flooded uninvited. Kyon’s fiery eyes. The way he let me crawl around inside his mind like I belonged there. That quiet intimacy didn’t match the rest of him, the dragon prince with a sealed-off private life and violent reputation. And then there was Larry and his beady little eyes following me around the club likeI owed him something. He hadn’t said a word, but I couldfeelthe gears in his greasy head turning.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The noise drew closer, right outside my window. What the freak? I padded over and shoved the old, chipped blinds aside.
A man in dress pants and a short-sleeved collared shirt was hammering a signpost directly into our front lawn.
I yanked on a robe, cinched the rope twice around my waist, and stormed to the front door. A paper notice flapped against it in the breeze. I ignored it, focusing instead on catching the guy before he left.
“Excuse me!” I called. “This is private property.”
The man paused mid-strike, leaning back to give me a once-over.
“Is Pete Marsh here?”
“No. I’m his closest living relative. You can run any of his matters through me.”
He pursed his lips. “Have you read the letter?”
“No.” What letter? We’d been getting mail since Grandpa’s arrest, but honestly…I hadn’t gotten around to opening any of it.
The man sighed—not with sympathy, but like he was about to explain something to a child that just couldn’t get the message. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a business card, which he handed over.
“I’m with the bank. We’ve acquired the loan your grandfather took out against this property a few years back.”
I frowned. “You mean…the reverse mortgage?” Mom had mentioned it. The property was ours until Grandpa’s death and the policy would even cover his funeral costs. Had she lied about this too?
The man tsked. “I don’t fully understand how that company operated. They filed for bankruptcy last year after being investigated for fraud. My bank acquired most of their outstanding loans. Yes,loans. Your grandfather hasn’t made a single payment to us, despite multiple attempts to contact him.”
Something lodged in my throat. I couldn’t speak. My gaze drifted to the sign for the first time.
Red bold letters spelled “FORECLOSURE.”
No.
No, no, no.
This couldn’t be happening…
“I’m sorry,” the man said, but his tone lacked conviction like he’d said the same line a hundred times.
“How do I stop this? How much does he owe?” I spewed questions in a cracked voice.
He raised both hands in mock surrender. “I’m the notice guy. I’d suggest calling the bank directly.” He jiggled the signpost to make sure it was sturdy, then inclined his head and strode toward his car without another word.
I stood there, stunned, until the hum of his car engine faded down the street. Then I dragged myself back toward the front door, head hanging low. How could this be happening? How could Grandpa not tell me? The disbelief in my chest twisted,burning, and blooming into anger. I charged up the front steps and snatched the notice with both hands, ready to tear it off the door, but froze in time.
Tiny block letters at the bottom read: “Removal of this notice is subject to legal penalties and fines.”
Damn it.
I darted into the kitchen and yanked the entire kitchen drawer out. I dumped its contents onto the counter, tearing into the mail I’d been stuffing there for days. Two envelopes from the bank caught my eye. I ripped them open and scanned the contents, my stomach twisting.
There it was, clear as day. A final warning of foreclosure if a payment of twenty-four thousand wasn’t received by yesterday.
Twenty-four thousand dollars…
I collapsed onto the nearest kitchen stool and dropped my head onto the counter. With my savings gone and barely scraping by on shifts at the club, there was no way I could pull that kind of money together. And even if the bank gave me more time, which they wouldn’t, it still wouldn’t be enough.
