Chapter 88 Debt Collection

Chapter 88 Debt Collection

"What do you mean not right?" Thomas hiccupped, the smell of alcohol still on his breath.

"Oscar is too smooth," Susan cut him off, her tone sharp. "The way he looks at us... it is like he is interrogating us."

"You are overthinking it," Thomas frowned, clearly oblivious. "It is just a watch."

Susan's eyes narrowed. "It is the same watch your mother has. Exactly the same. You do not find that strange?"

Thomas shook his head. "Coincidence. A watch does not mean anything."

Susan stared at him, a wave of frustration rising in her chest. Talking sense to Thomas was like talking to a brick wall. No wonder Henry had him buried in the logistics department. 

She bit back the urge to argue further and simply filed Oscar's name away in her mind.

Meanwhile, at the Caldwell Mansion, a different storm was brewing.

Megan returned from outside, her face pale as chalk. 

She had barely parked the car when she saw Terry leaning against the ornate front gate, his head tilted, posture slouched, eyes full of irritation.

"Where is the money?" he demanded, pushing off the gate. "You said today. My phone has not stopped ringing with debt collectors."

"I do not have it," Megan avoided his gaze and tried to head for the door, heels striking the stone path in quick, sharp beats. "I am short on cash. You will have to wait."

"Wait?" Terry grabbed her wrist, yanking her back with a grip that made her bones ache. "I can wait. Can the loan sharks wait? They said if I do not pay, they will take my leg."

"That is your problem!" Megan snapped, jerking her arm free. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "I have given you millions since I started keeping you. Fifty million dollars at least. You lost it gambling. That is on you."

"On me?" Terry let out a short, bitter laugh and stepped closer, his breath hot and sour against her face. "Who begged me to stay with you? Who promised me anything I wanted as long as I kept you company? Now you are tired of paying? Megan, look at yourself. At your age, who else would bother with you?"

"Shut up!" Megan's face flushed crimson. 

She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist and twisted it behind her back.

He leaned in, his voice low and venomous. "Do not play tough with me. If I spill your little secrets, do you think Henry will still call you his mother?"

Megan froze, her strength draining away. She stared at his young, handsome face, now twisted with cruelty, and felt only nausea.

"I... I will get you two million dollars tomorrow," she whispered. "But you have to disappear after that. I never want to see you again."

Terry released her, patting her cheek with mock affection. "That is better. You always knew how to be reasonable."

He turned to leave, then glanced back with a smirk. "Two million. Not a cent less. Or I plaster your photos all over the city. Especially the Caldwell Corporation."

When he was gone, Megan slid down against the doorframe, tears spilling freely. Years of humiliation, fear, and foolish hope shattered like glass around her.

From the living room, Susan had seen everything. 

She strolled over, a cold smile tugging at her lips. "Well, what happened here? Who upset you?"

Normally, Megan would have lashed out instantly. Today, she just lifted bloodshot eyes and rasped one word. "Leave."

"Feisty," Susan remarked, stepping closer, tapping her fingernail against her phone case. "Was it Terry? I hear he is drowning in gambling debts."

Megan's head snapped up, her glare sharp enough to cut. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Susan said softly, bending down so her voice was a whisper in Megan's ear. "I just think you look... pathetic."

She let the word hang, then added, "But then again, a woman who can only keep a man with money does not have much right to throw a tantrum."

"Susan! You little—" Megan lunged, but Susan sidestepped easily, letting her stumble forward and crash to the floor.

Susan clutched her stomach and cried out dramatically, "Ah! My belly!"

The shout brought Lila running from the kitchen. She froze, torn between Megan on the floor and Susan pale-faced and holding her stomach. 

"What happened? Should I call a doctor?"

"No need," Susan straightened, her expression perfectly calm now. She glanced at Megan. "She just startled me. I am fine."

Susan started for the stairs, then paused halfway up. "Oh, Megan—tomorrow I want pastries from that shop on the west side of the city. Do not forget."

Megan watched her go, her fingernails digging into the grooves of the floorboards. She knew she could not keep living like this. 

Between Terry's blackmail and Susan's games, she was being crushed. Either she fought back, or she would be destroyed.

She rose slowly, the last trace of hesitation gone from her eyes, replaced with something sharp and dangerous.

Moonlight spilled through the carved window frames, casting a net of shadows across the floor—trapping everyone in this house.

The next morning, Sophia woke early. The fog outside still clung to the gardens. She had been running a fever since returning from City S, and her throat felt raw and dry.

She rolled over, checked her phone. 6:30 a.m.

Henry had told her to take the day off. Lila had been instructed to keep an eye on her.

Sophia was about to drift back to sleep when she heard it—soft footsteps downstairs. Not Lila's. Someone was moving quietly, as if trying not to be heard. The faint scrape of a heel against the floor, back and forth, over and over.

Sleep fled instantly.