Chapter 3Your Debt Your Grave Now

Three days later, the front door nearly came off its hinges.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The whole house shuddered. Five men, built like brick walls and covered in ink, forced their way into the living room. The leader, a man with a jagged scar across his eyebrow, swung a baseball bat into the hallway mirror. Glass rained down like diamonds.

"MELANIE! Get out here!" he roared. "Thirty grand by tonight, or I start taking fingers!"

Beatrice came sprinting out of her bedroom, losing a slipper in the process. "Gentlemen, please! We can talk about this!"

She saw the bat and immediately bolted for the pantry. She fumbled with the key, ripped the door open, and grabbed me by the collar, throwing me into the living room as a human shield.

"It’s her! She’s the one who took the money!" Beatrice screamed, her face a contorted mask of fear. "My eldest daughter! She did it all! We have nothing to do with this!"

Just like before. She didn't hesitate to throw me to the wolves.

The leader grabbed me by the hair, a sharp pain blooming in my scalp. He pulled my head back, glaring into my eyes. "You Melanie?"

I looked back at him, my expression dead. "My name is Nancy. Melanie is the one hiding behind the sofa."

I ignored the tugging on my hair and spoke calmly. "If you’re here for a debt, you should probably verify the identity. You don't want to waste your time on someone who doesn't have the money. Check the phone number on the file. Check the facial recognition."

The man narrowed his eyes. "You think I’m playing games?"

He pulled out a rugged tablet, swiping through a portal. "Real-ID verification: Melanie. Registered phone number ends in 8888."

Beatrice froze. That phone number—the "lucky" number she’d spent a thousand dollars to get for Melanie's graduation—was unmistakable. The monthly bill alone was a fortune.

Melanie finally peeked out from behind the couch, her voice a shrill, desperate whine. "It was my sister! She stole my phone! She did it while I was sleeping!"

I looked at the enforcer. "Sir, those apps require 'liveness' checks for withdrawals. You have to blink, smile, and turn your head for the camera. How did I manage to do that with her face while she was sleeping?"

The man had been in this business a long time. He knew a lie when he heard one. He let go of my hair and stepped toward Melanie.

"You think I’m an idiot?"

CRACK.

He delivered a backhand that sent Melanie spinning. She hit the floor hard, her face swelling instantly. Blood and snot smeared across her porcelain skin.

"Mom! Help me!" she shrieked.

Beatrice went feral. She lunged at the man, trying to claw at his eyes. "You leave my daughter alone! I’ll kill you!"

The man didn't even flinch. He planted a boot in Beatrice’s stomach, sending her skidding across the floor until she slammed into the coffee table. The living room was filled with the discordant music of their wailing.