10 – THE FALL OF THE HOME

POV: LAUREN

Water was still dripping from my hair and clothes, leaving a wet trail behind me as I walked toward the gates of my family’s mansion. I frowned when I noticed a moving truck parked at the main entrance, with several men loading furniture, paintings, and boxes into the vehicle as if they were mere disposable items. My chest tightened as I ran toward one of the men carrying the old grandfather clock my father had cherished so much.

“What’s going on here? Who authorized this?” My voice came out louder than I expected, filled with desperation.

“Ma’am, please remain calm,” the man said, avoiding my gaze and quickening his pace toward the truck.

Not satisfied with his vague response, I rushed to stop the next mover, grabbing his arm firmly.

“These things belong to my father!” I shouted nervously. “You can’t just come into our home and take everything like this!”

A man in a pristine suit and thick glasses approached slowly, holding a clipboard in his hands. Adjusting his glasses, he looked at me with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Miss Lauren Becker, I presume?” he asked, his tone so icy it made me shiver.

“Yes, that’s me!” I replied, crossing my arms to hide the trembling. “Now, can you explain what’s happening here?”

“My name is Daniel Martins. I’m an inspector for the Central Bank,” he began in a dry, professional tone. “Your father took out loans to try to save the company, but unfortunately, he was unable to make the payments. This property, along with the listed assets, was used as collateral for the loans. We are here to enforce the asset recovery process.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“Collateral?” I repeated, my voice barely audible. “This is our home! Everything here belongs to my family!”

He removed a paper from his clipboard and handed it to me.

“Here is the detailed breakdown of the debt. As you can see, the amount is substantial.”

I took the paper with trembling hands. My eyes scanned the lines, but the numbers seemed impossible to process. The amount was staggering—something we could never hope to repay.

“My father did everything he could to save the company.” My voice faltered, heavy with the lump tightening in my throat. “And now you want to take everything he spent his entire life building?”

“Not just take, miss,” the inspector continued, showing no empathy as a cruel smile spread across his face. “The property will be auctioned off to cover part of the debt. The remaining balance will have to be paid by the family.”

My legs nearly gave out. The thought of losing the house—the place where I grew up, where my father built his legacy—was too much to bear.

“This can’t be real,” I whispered to myself.

The inspector ignored my despair and motioned for the men to continue their work.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of the surreal moment. It was a message from Kate: “Your mom is fine. Change clothes and come to the hospital. We need to talk.”

I needed to leave, but I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I stepped inside the house one last time. The hallways felt empty, even though a few things were still in place. Every corner held a memory, but now everything would be taken away.

I rushed to my room, changed out of my wet clothes into something dry, and headed to the hospital.

When I arrived, exhausted and biting my lips, I knew I’d have to tell my mom what was happening. We needed to figure out how to deal with it all. But how could I tell her that, on top of just losing her husband, we were about to lose everything? The house, the furniture, our memories—everything was being ripped away from us.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I was stopped by the doctor before I could reach her room, as directed by the nurse.

“Mrs. Becker, as I informed your friend, your mother’s health is delicate. Any stress or shock could be extremely dangerous for her right now,” the doctor explained in a professional tone. “Be a good daughter and shield her from any news that might upset her.”

I nodded, feeling the weight pressing harder on my chest.

“We’ll keep her under observation for a few more days,” the doctor added.

“Lauren, what’s going on?” Kate asked for the third time since we left the hospital. She had been driving in silence for a few minutes but clearly couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Nothing, Kate. I already told you everything’s under control,” I replied, staring out the window, trying to hide the tremble in my voice.

“You’re the worst liar I know,” she huffed, glancing at me for a second before turning her attention back to the road. “Come on, spill it. I’m waiting.”

I sighed, too tired to fight.

“They’re taking the house, Kate. The bank confiscated everything. The house, the furniture… everything.”

A curse slipped from her lips. Kate abruptly pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to face me.

“They’re what? How did this happen?” she asked, both surprised and concerned.

“There’s nothing we can do. The bank took it all because of my father’s debts,” I admitted, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “But my mom can’t know. The doctor said any stress could make her condition worse. I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, here’s the plan.” Kate crossed her arms, her expression resolute. “You and your mom are staying at my place. No objections. I have a guest room, and your mom can stay there comfortably.”

“Kate, I can’t do that to you,” I tried to argue, but she raised her hand, silencing me.

“Yes, you can. And you will,” Kate said firmly, though there was a touch of kindness in her voice. “You need a safe place to figure out your next steps. And your mom requires peace. My house is big enough.”

I looked at her, my eyes welling with tears.

“Thank you, Kate. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably collapse in the middle of the street,” she said with a small smile, trying to lighten the tension. “Now stop thanking me and let’s figure this out together.”