Chapter 1

I shuffled towards the house pulling my bag lousily behind. My face held a grin of pride. I can’t wait to barge into the house and wave my certificate across my parents’ and Mitchell’s faces.

“Hello Miss,” a sweet deep voice halted my fast pace. I spun around and glared at the handsome man standing beside his car parked across my house. My glare faded away as I drooled, his perfect angelic face radiated beauty and flawlessness, his chiseled jawline tightened as he chewed a bubble gum which he spit out when I turned, the expensive tuxedo he wore glued to his bulky body, giving credit to his muscles, his hair was curled up to the side and his clear blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. I was directly staring at a demi-god. Even Caspar, the most handsome guy in college wasn’t half as handsome as the man before me. Every sane girl will desire to tear off that tuxedo hiding those muscles, arbs, biceps, and hot body.

But I’m not in any way close to sane, am I?

I ignored the prince charming and headed towards my house. Perhaps, he’s a lost stranger looking for an address. It’s usual to find people wandering around the neighborhood searching for an address.

I got to the door and hastily placed a rasp knock on the door.

“Coming!” I smiled as I heard my Mom whistle from inside.

“Hello Miss,” the bugging voice came up behind me. I swerved around and faced him, a scowl replaced the smile on my face.

“What?” I snapped

“You must be Deborah Thatcher,” he said, licking his bottom lip.

His wet pinkish lips captured my sanity. I shook my head, overcoming the temptation that stared at me.

It seemed like the address he was searching for was mine, he might be looking for my parents.

But how the hell did he know my name?

I watched his lips curve seductively into a mischievous smile.

“Don’t bother asking how I knew your name,” he said.

My eyes widened as I stared at him in shock. Did he just read my thoughts?

I parted my lips to talk but the creaking of the door made me slam them and turn.

My mom’s jaw dropped as she gapped at me.

“Honey?” she shrieked excitedly.

“Mummy, I made it!” I screamed and wrapped my hands around her.

“Oh my, I’m so happy for you. My baby is now a certified doctor,” Mom said, pulling my chubby cheeks.

“Yes, Mrs. Thatcher !” I bobbed an absurd curtsy, completely oblivious to the handsome stranger behind me.

“Hello, Mrs. Thatcher.”

 My Mom looked over my shoulder and her smile dropped.

“Sir...” She gasped, staring popeyed at him.

“I’ve come back for my property,” His sharp blue eyes shone as he muttered.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I wonder what property my parents owed him.

“Give me some minutes to talk to her,” Mom replied.

Me?

My brows arched in confusion as I glanced from the handsome devil before me to my terrified Mom.

“Honey, we need to talk, quickly,” fear laced in her voice as she spoke.

I allowed my Mom nudge me into the cozy lovely house where I had spent most of my years. It still looks like it was the last time I came for a school break, aside from Mitchell’s painting on the kitchen wall, nothing has changed about the house.

“I’ve been waiting for ages to see your lovely face again,” my dad’s voice echoed in the hallway as he rode into the living room.

I grinned widely and rushed to the wheelchair. I knelt beside him and held his hand, grinning widely.

“Well, I’ll be staying back this time around. I’m never leaving you,” I muttered, he chuckled lightly and patted my cheeks.

My whole family has always been fond of my cheeks. I can remember how my brother used to pinch my cheeks till I released a pained outburst. I smiled at the memory and glanced at the staircase. Why isn’t he here?

“Where’s Mitchell?” I asked

Dad and Mom exchanged glances and remained mute. Mom’s pale face grew paler as she took to picking her nails.

“Dad?” I sense that something isn’t right here. My Dad responded by clearing his throat.

“Honey, I told you we had to talk, right?” Mom finally broke the killing silence that floated around us.

“A few days after you went back to college, the cancer worsened,” Mom said, she pulled out a dust-marred handkerchief and blew her runny nose.

“Where’s Mitchell?” I noticed my voice was cracked as I asked.

“The doctor said that he would not survive it-” tears streamed down Mom’s face as she mumbled.

“He’s in the hospital,” Dad cut in, giving Mom time to catch her breath.

“He’s responding to treatment now,” Mom added.

I glanced at the both of them, confused.

“How did you get the money for the treatment?” the last time Mitchell had a seizure that led to his admittance at the hospital, the bill mentioned for the surgery was something the three of us put together could not afford in a year.

My parents kept mute, the both of them kept avoiding my eyes.

“Did you borrow again?” my voice was raised in anger. “Dad, we all know what happened to the field the last time you borrowed to get me into college!” tears slowly drifted into my eyes. My family has been unlucky with finances. It all started the day my Dad got into an accident, the crash affected his spinal nerves which led to paralysis. He has been confined to a wheelchair ever since.

10 years of stinging memories which I had always eluded came rushing into my head, the bullies and criticism at high school displayed before me.

“You should have told me, I would have done something!” my voice was hoarse and rough.

“You were taking your final exams, we didn’t want anything to disrupt you from that delicate moment of your life in college,” Mom defended.

“Mitchell is more important than my studies, he’s more important than the lame certificate!”

We stared at each other in silence, anger and bitterness hung over our heads.

A soft knock sounded on the door and we diverted our attention to it. I balled my fist and shuffled towards the door, seething in anger.

“The man…” I heard Mom whisper to Dad as I reached for the knob and pulled the door open. I popped out my head and glared at the irritating intruder.

“Scram!” I spat at his face and slammed the door shut.

“So, who did you get the money from and what is their collateral?”

The both of them exchanged glances again and remained quiet.

Their silence is eating deep into me.

“Did he give you the money?” I pointed at the door.

“Yes, dear.” Mom nodded.

I huffed and puffed, pacing aimlessly around the toxic room.

The house?” I asked.

“We didn’t get the loan with the house,” Dad said in a whisper.

“Then what?”

“You.”

What?” my head dropped as I craned my neck to get his words right.

“You are the collateral.”