Chapter 17 With What
Quinley's heart seized as a wave of foreboding washed over her.
"Mom, take a breath. Tell me slowly—what's happened to Dennis?"
Before Marlee could respond, the phone was wrenched away. A harsh voice cut through the line, "Your brother owes us two million dollars in loan shark debt with compound interest. If it's not paid today, well, don't blame us for what happens to your parents!"
The background erupted with the unmistakable sounds of destruction—glass shattering, furniture splintering.
Marlee's terrified pleas pierced through the chaos, "Please stop! We'll pay—I swear we'll pay!"
"You thugs!" Colin's voice thundered. "This is my home! Get out!"
The scene descended into chaos.
Quinley gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles whitened. The nightmare from three years ago was repeating itself, frame by terrible frame.
"I'll pay Dennis's debt," she said, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "Don't harm my family. I'm coming right now."
Without a moment's hesitation, she grabbed her handbag and bolted toward the exit.
Outside the airport, Quinley flagged down a taxi and directed it to the Elikin Apartment. At a red light, a sleek Maybach pulled alongside her cab.
Through the tinted windows, Zachary reclined in the back seat, eyes closed, brow furrowed in contemplation.
After their brief call, he had made an impulsive decision to follow her to Novaria.
Neither noticed the other, separated by mere feet of city air.
When the light turned green, they headed in opposite directions—a perfect metaphor for lives that kept intersecting only to diverge again.
Twenty minutes later, Quinley arrived at her family's building—an aging five-story walk-up in a modest neighborhood.
The moment she entered the stairwell, the acrid smell of paint burned her nostrils.
Following a trail of crimson splatter up the stairs, she reached the third floor to find their apartment door vandalized with red paint.
The door stood ajar, Marlee's broken sobs spilling into the hallway.
When Quinley stepped inside, every head turned toward her.
A tattooed man with thick gold chains lounged on the sofa, cigarette dangling from his lips, feet propped insolently on the coffee table. Four similarly dressed men occupied the dining area like they owned it.
"Quinny!" Marlee's crying intensified at the sight of her daughter.
The apartment was devastated. Colin's prized aquarium—the one he had maintained for years—lay shattered on the floor, several goldfish gasping their final breaths amid broken glass and puddles.
"Mom, don't be afraid," Quinley said softly, wrapping an arm around Marlee's trembling shoulders. "I'm here now."
The man on the sofa studied her through narrowed eyes. "So you're going to pay Dennis Elikin's debt?"
"Where's my brother?" Quinley scanned the room, her composure unwavering.
"They locked your brother and dad in the bedroom," Marlee whispered.
At a casual nod from the leader, one of his men opened the bedroom door. Colin and Dennis were roughly pushed into the living room.
"Dad, are you okay?"
Colin kept his head down, face dark with humiliation. He didn't respond.
Dennis stood with shoulders hunched, one side of his face swollen from a recent beating. His glasses sat crooked on his nose.
Quinley crossed to him and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. No words, just the silent promise of support.
"So how are you paying?" the leader demanded, flicking ash onto the floor. "Bank transfer or cash?"
Quinley turned to face him, her expression cool and collected. Despite the chaos surrounding her, she projected absolute calm.
"Let's discuss this outside."
"We'll talk right here!" the man barked.
Ignoring him completely, Quinley walked straight to the door. "I said I'll pay. If you want the money, follow me."
"Quinny!" Marlee called out, her voice tight with fear.
Quinley paused at the threshold. "Dennis, take care of Mom and Dad. I'll be back soon."
With a reassuring nod, she stepped into the hallway. After a moment's hesitation, the group of men followed, unwilling to let their payday walk away.
Two million dollars wasn't an impossible sum for Quinley. After three years working closely with Zachary, she had saved a considerable amount—just not quite enough.
She led the men to the nearest bank in the neighborhood, her stride purposeful, her back straight. Inside, she accessed her account.
The balance showed just under 1.5 million dollars.
"Not enough!" the leader sneered when he saw the figure.
Quinley massaged her temple, her composure never faltering.
"I'll pay the rest within a week," she said evenly. "Of course, you can choose not to take this card at all."
She moved to retrieve the card, but the man snatched it back.
"One week it is," he growled. "But don't forget—this is a loan shark debt. In a week, the interest will make that balance even higher."
His arrogance was palpable, but Quinley had no alternatives.
"I understand," she acknowledged quietly.
With a sharp whistle from their leader, the group dispersed, their purpose fulfilled for now.
Quinley remained rooted to the spot long after they'd gone. Her account was empty, and a hollow feeling spread through her chest.
She knew the pain of poverty intimately—understood how money wasn't just currency but security, dignity, options.
For families like hers, it was the difference between stability and chaos.
But as important as money was, family mattered more.
---
When Quinley returned to the apartment, Marlee immediately enveloped her in a desperate embrace.
"We should call the police," she whispered urgently. "Loan sharks are illegal—we can't possibly repay this."
Three years ago, they had faced a similar crisis. Back then, Quinley had somehow managed to save them from financial ruin.
But times were different now. Quinley wasn't a miracle worker; she couldn't keep pulling rabbits from empty hats.
Before she could respond, Colin's hand flew through the air, landing with a sharp crack against Dennis's cheek.
"Why couldn't you just focus on your studies?" he shouted, voice breaking with emotion. "What possessed you to get mixed up with loan sharks?"
Dennis, tall and lanky, lost his glasses from the force of the blow. They clattered to the floor as he kept his head bowed, silent and ashamed.
Quinley knelt to retrieve the glasses, gently placing them back on her brother's face. She noticed the silent tears tracking down his cheeks.
"I'm so sorry, Quinny," Dennis whispered, the words barely audible.
Instead of adding to his burden, Quinley ruffled his thick hair affectionately. "I'm starving. Come with me to grab a bite."
She took his arm and led him outside.
At this point, blame and anger would only fracture their family bonds without changing anything. Practical as always, Quinley focused on what could be controlled.
Once outside the building, Dennis finally spoke. "Will those men come back?"
Quinley exhaled softly. She wouldn't insult him with lies. "Yes."
Dennis's hands balled into fists. "I borrowed the money. I should be the one to pay it back."
"With what?" Quinley's gentle question left him speechless.
He had lived in an ivory tower his whole life. During the crisis three years ago, he had been in his final year of high school.
The family had shielded him from the truth; he had never experienced the true peril they'd faced.
"I'll get a job," he said with desperate earnestness. "I could sell blood, start livestreaming—there must be ways to earn money."
His response revealed how little he understood about the real world.
He didn't grasp that while earning money might be straightforward, earning large sums quickly was nearly impossible through legitimate means.
Quinley didn't have the heart to crush his spirit. Instead, she asked the question that had been bothering her, "The allowance I give you isn't small. Why did you need a loan shark in the first place?"
Dennis opened his mouth, closed it, then stared at his shoes. No explanation came.
Quinley didn't press him further. They entered a small noodle shop near the neighborhood entrance and ordered two bowls of chicken soup noodles.
Quinley was genuinely famished after the day's ordeal. She bent over her bowl, savoring large mouthfuls of the hot, comforting broth.
Dennis merely stirred his noodles, appetite gone. He watched his sister eat, his expression growing more miserable by the minute.
When Quinley finished and looked up, she noticed his reddened eyes.
"Don't worry about the money," she said softly. "I'll handle it. You should go back to school now. Focus on your studies and stay far away from people like that."
She didn't utter a single word of reproach, which only intensified Dennis's guilt.
Throughout their lives, no matter what trouble he caused, Quinley had always been his protector, his safety net.
"I'm so sorry, Quinny," he whispered again, the words inadequate for the weight they carried.
That evening, Dennis returned to campus, still guarding the secret of why he had sought out loan sharks in the first place.
Late that night, Quinley returned to the apartment to find her parents still cleaning up the destruction.
Marlee was scrubbing paint from the doorway, her hands raw from chemicals. Colin hunched over broken furniture, attempting repairs with tools too small for the job.
"Quinny." Marlee set down her bucket and took Quinley's hand, pressing a folded document into it.
The property deed.
"Denny made a terrible mistake," she said, voice breaking. "We failed to raise him properly. Take the house—sell it to cover the debt."
Tears fell as she spoke, each one a testament to a mother's willingness to sacrifice everything for her children.
This apartment was Quinley's first major purchase—bought outright during her first year working for Zachary.
A modest two-bedroom in an average location, but on the day they'd moved in, the entire family had smiled for hours.
They finally had a real home, no longer crammed into tenement housing on the city outskirts.
"We don't need to sell yet," Quinley said gently, returning the deed. "I can handle this. Please try not to worry yourselves sick."
She stayed at the apartment that night, sleeping in her old bedroom surrounded by memories of simpler times.
Just as she was drifting off, exhausted from the day's events, her phone lit up the darkness.
Sylvia was calling.