Chapter 4 - The Debt Collectors
By Wednesday, the pressure on the Henderson family began to boil over.
Without the sixty-five thousand dollars to settle Ethan’s debt, the dark, violent underbelly of his gambling addiction began to knock on their door.
I was resting in my small rented apartment after a brutal round of chemotherapy when my doorbell rang. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. I crept to the window and peered through the blinds.
It wasn't my family.
Two men in dark leather jackets stood on my porch. One was thick-necked and heavily tattooed; the other was thin, wire-faced, and carrying an empty manila folder. They didn't look like my father or my brother. They looked like professional collectors.
"Claire!" the thin one called out, tapping a gold coin against the glass of my door. "We know you’re in there, sweetheart. We just want to talk about your brother, Ethan. He told us you have a big, fat envelope with our name on it."
I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed the direct line Evelyn had given me for Detective Harris, the officer assigned to my father’s assault case.
"Detective," I whispered, hiding in the hallway. "There are two men at my door. They're here for Ethan’s debt."
"Keep the door locked, Claire. I’m sending a unit right now," Harris said.
Within five minutes, the sound of sirens scattered the two men, but the message was loud and clear: Ethan had used my name and my address as collateral to buy himself more time. He had painted a target on my back to save his own skin.
Later that afternoon, Evelyn called me with an urgent update.
"Claire, we’ve just discovered something disturbing," she said, her voice tight. "Your father’s bail was posted an hour ago."
I felt a cold wave of dread wash over me. "Who paid it? They don't have ten thousand dollars."
"Your mother took out an emergency second mortgage on their house," Evelyn explained. "But that’s not all. Michael’s defense attorney has filed an emergency motion to contest your grandmother’s will. They are claiming that your grandmother was not of sound mind when she left you the sixty-five thousand, and they are seeking an immediate freeze on the trust fund."
"Can they do that?" I asked, my hand flying to my collarbone, where my port-a-cath rested beneath my skin. "My next surgery is scheduled in three weeks! If they freeze the trust, the hospital won't perform the procedure!"
"They are trying to starve you out, Claire," Evelyn said, her voice filled with grim resolve. "They know that if they delay your treatment, your health will fail. They’re betting that you’ll hand over the money just to stay alive. But I’m already drafting a counter-motion. We are going to expose their financial records in court. We’re going to show the judge exactly where their money has been going."
"Ethan’s accounts," I muttered.
May you like
"Exactly," Evelyn said. "We’re going to subpoena the transaction history of every casino and online betting platform Ethan has used in the last five years. We’re going to show the court that this isn't a dispute over a will—it’s a coordinated, criminal attempt to fund an illegal gambling habit through elder abuse and domestic violence."
"Let's do it," I said, a spark of fire reigniting in my chest. "They wanted to play dirty. Let’s show them what happens when a dying girl has nothing left to lose."
