Chapter 193
I looked at Tony standing in front of me, then at his companions behind him, and felt a chill shoot straight from my feet to the top of my head.
How could my mom do something like that?
She actually mortgaged the house we're living in?
Something this huge, why didn't she tell me?
Why did she have to bear it all alone?
"Are you sure you've got the right people?" My voice trembled with shock and anger, but I forced myself to stay calm. "My mom's company has hit some rough patches lately, business is down, but it's nowhere near bad enough to mortgage our only home. And this house..."
Mom bought it with all her savings after the divorce, with some help from Flora, gritting her teeth to make it happen.
It wasn't fancy, but the location was good, the environment peaceful. It was Mom's last safety net, her place to call home.
How could she so easily mortgage it away?
Tony seemed used to reactions like mine. His face showed no emotion as he pulled out several photocopied documents from his briefcase, all business.
"Ms. Brown, this is a copy of the mortgage contract. It has your mother's signature and fingerprint, along with our bank's official seal. You can verify it yourself."
He handed the documents to me.
I took them with shaking hands.
Black and white, with that familiar handwriting—Mom's signature...
Like a cold iron hammer, it shattered my last shred of hope.
"Wait." I tried to make my voice sound steady, but the tremor still betrayed my emotions. "I need to confirm this with my mother personally. Until then, you have no right to enter my home."
I turned around, ignoring them, then I went inside.
In the living room, Echo the caregiver was standing nervously by the staircase. When she saw me come in, she looked relieved and quickly whispered, "Ms. Brown, Ms. Murphy heard the noise and insisted on coming down..."
I looked up.
Mom was holding onto the banister, struggling down the stairs one step at a time.
Her face was more pale than how it looked at the hospital, her eyes evasive, unable to meet mine.
Just one look, and I understood everything.
"Mom." I rushed forward to support her, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "What's going on? Don't tell me what the bank staff said is true?"
Mom avoided my gaze, lowering her head, her voice weak, "Grace, I'll explain this to you later. For now, just let them in."
"Mom!" I panicked. "Do you know what they're doing? They're here to liquidate assets, to take the house."
"I know..." Mom's voice caught with tears. She looked up, eyes red-rimmed. "Grace, I know, but this is procedure. We can't avoid it."
Since Mom put it that way, there was no point in me blocking them anymore.
Echo glanced at me, and seeing my silent acceptance, carefully went to open the door.
Tony, the one with glasses, walked in with three others. Their manner was fairly polite.
But that businesslike detachment and the subtle pressure they brought instantly dropped the living room temperature to freezing.
They began pulling out tablets and measuring tools, asking Mom about details like when the house was purchased, renovations, furniture brands, while walking through rooms, taking photos, and making notes.
I stood in the middle of the living room, watching it all, feeling my blood rush to my head then instantly cool, freezing my limbs stiff.
My brow furrowed tightly, my heart felt like it was blocked by a water-soaked boulder.
I had no idea things had gotten this serious.
Mortgaging the company wasn't enough, she had to mortgage the house too?
Just how much debt was Mom carrying? Why wouldn't she tell me a single word?
Did she think telling me would be useless? Or was she afraid of dragging me down?
Was this the trouble she'd been hiding from me all along?
When those people finished their rough inventory and assessment and returned to the living room, I took a deep breath, walked forward, and stopped Tony as he was about to leave.
"Mr. Cole," my voice was tight from trying to control myself, "if we pay back all the principal and interest owed, you won't bother my mother anymore, and the mortgage on this house can be lifted, right?"
"Grace!" Mom suddenly grabbed my arm, urgently trying to stop me. "You don't need to worry about this. I'll figure it out myself."
"How can I not worry?" I whipped around, for the first time using a voice close to shouting to cut Mom off.
My eyes were slightly red from agitation and anger, "Mom, I'm your daughter! Something this big, you hid it from me, bore it alone, and now you want me to stay out of it? I don't blame you for not telling me, but you can't expect me to just watch our home get taken away!"
After shouting, I didn't look at Mom's instantly pale face or her tear-filled eyes. My gaze locked onto Tony.
Tony seemed accustomed to these family disputes. His face showed no expression as he answered matter-of-factly, "Yes, Ms. Brown, as long as all debts, principal and interest, are paid within the specified period, the bank will naturally lift the mortgage, and we won't bother you again."
"Good." I practically squeezed the words through my teeth. "I will pay back this money. Please give me some time."
"Of course." Tony nodded, but then his tone shifted, taking on a hint of difficulty and obligatory disclosure. "However, Ms. Brown, there's something I need to inform you of. When we contacted your mother before, she indicated she temporarily had no ability to repay, so following procedure, we've already initiated preliminary disposal proceedings for the mortgaged property."
He paused, glancing at Mom and me, "Before we came today, a client interested in the mortgaged property information we posted contacted us, saying they wanted to come see the environment and layout first. We've already agreed to let them view the house today, so..."
His meaning couldn't be clearer.
Although I said I'd pay back the money, the bank had already proceeded with the next steps based on the assumption of non-payment, and had already scheduled a potential buyer to view the house.
"I object." The words burst out of me.
Why should we?
We haven't reached the final step yet. I still have a chance.
Why should strangers come look at our home? To assess our predicament?
"No objection, no objection," Mom forcefully covered my mouth while forcing a smile at Tony. "Mr. Cole, we don't mind at all. They can look, look all they want. Sorry to trouble you, making a special trip..."
Mom's hand trembled slightly, her eyes full of pleading and humility.
I knew she didn't want to make things worse, didn't want to completely anger the bank, and especially didn't want me to suffer from acting impulsively.
I looked at the tears she was holding back in her eyes, my throat felt blocked by something, all my fierce words stuck in my chest, turning into waves of dull pain.
Tony seemed relieved, "Alright then, thank you for your cooperation. The client should be here soon. We'll wait here."
The waiting time felt like torture, every second.
Mom gripped my hand tightly. Her palm was ice cold, covered in cold sweat.
Neither of us spoke. The living room was left with only the monotonous ticking of the wall clock and the occasional muffled murmurs of the bank staff.
After about ten minutes, the sound of a car engine shutting off came from outside.
Then the sound of a car door opening, and shutting.
Footsteps approached from afar, closing in.
My heart sank bit by bit with those footsteps, down to rock bottom.
When those two disturbingly familiar figures appeared at the open doorway.
I felt a chill instantly shoot through my entire body , even my fingertips turned ice cold and stiff.