3|The Debts

My heart was pounding, suffocating my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. My hands were tingling because I was gripping the steering wheel tightly. I breathed and hurried to get my phone from my bag.

“If I were you, I wouldn't do that,” a man said through the front door glass beside me. His friends stood in front of my car, pointing their guns at me. “Don't try to call the police, and get out of your car carefully.”

I swallowed hard. Who among my enemies had sent those people? Were they going to kill me or hurt me slowly? My whole body was trembling. Catching my breath couldn't help me calm down.

“Get out!” The man beside me knocked loudly on the door glass.

I unlocked the car and opened it. The man pulled my body impatiently. "What the hell is this!? Who are you!?" I scolded, trying to get up the courage.

“You don't need to know who we are.” The man glanced at the companion at his side. The second man placed a piece of paper before me. “Pay your debt.”

I scoffed. "Debt? I have no debt to you." I looked around me. "Who are you? I don't know you, let alone owe you money!"

“Read the name of the person who signed it,” he ordered.

I heaved a loud sigh before glancing at the paper his men had placed near my face. I leaned closer to read the paper carefully. The borrower had to pay a total debt of fifty million dollars, and there was George Bailey's signature, my father.

“I can't believe it,” I muttered.

"You can read the transfer slip. You must know George Bailey's account number by heart. He said he needed funds to open his new hotel," the man explained.

Dad didn't mention the loan. I thought all the money we used to build the new business was our family's remaining savings. I gave everything I had for the hotel. Why didn't he tell me about the debt?

"My father borrowed the money. Why should I have to pay for it?" I challenged him.

He raised his hand when a colleague put a gun to my head. “You know why,” he said calmly.

“My father is in jail, but there's no information that I'm his co-signer or guarantor,” I added.

“Do you love your parents?” he asked in a very calm tone.

One of his colleagues came over and showed me the tablet's screen. There was a video showing several women in a dimly lit room. I gasped as I recognized my mother. She was getting beaten by a woman in the same outfit as her.

"Your mother was detained for a very long time. Her comfort in that place depends on your answer. Pay your debt," he repeated.

I closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight of a woman punching my mother in the face. My whole body trembled, and my eyes heated up, but I held my tears. Even though my mother deserved it for her selfish actions, I couldn't let her suffer.

"Give me some time. I'll send the money as soon as possible," I promised.

The man smirked. "George said the same thing over and over but failed to pay. I'm sure you'll do the same, giving false hope."

"My husband just passed away. I need time to manage his heritage and claim his life insurance. I can give you fifty million by selling my jewelry, but that will take time. Please. Give me time," I pleaded.

"Twenty-four hours. We'll collect the money tomorrow at the same time," the man said.

He glanced at his friends. They loaded their weapons and walked over to their respective cars. The three vehicles drove off, leaving me alone in that deserted place. The empty place and the chilly air raising goosebumps on my skin, I hurriedly got into the car and drove off.

I headed for the office. My father's company went bankrupt three years ago because of his financial mismanagement and tax evasion. We built a small hotel from the ground up with our remaining savings. They trusted me to be the CEO.

However, no one knew about it. A big scandal in my family forced me to keep a low profile. Cullen asked me to wait until things calmed down and people stopped talking about my disgrace before appearing in public.

“Good evening, Mrs. Channing,” the security guard greeted me kindly.

“Good evening,” I replied.

I entered through the back door so no one would see me coming. Arriving at the fifth floor, I exited the elevator and marched to my office. My assistant's desk was empty, indicating that she had gone home.

No wonder. She didn't know I would come on the day of my husband's funeral. I opened my office door and closed it. Realizing there was someone in the room, I looked at my desk.

“Oh.” I looked around, but I hadn't entered the wrong room. “Excuse me, who are you? It's my office.”

The man smiled. He stood up and approached me. “Hi. You must be Darcy Channing.” He extended his hand. “My name is Idris Sanders, CEO of Brand New Corporation.”

I wrinkled my forehead. “You must be joking. I'm the CEO of this company,” I corrected.

“Oh. The top shareholder held an impromptu meeting yesterday to talk about that. Everyone agreed to elect a new CEO after reading the latest financial report, which you failed to deliver.” The man smiled.

“Who is the shareholder you're referring to?” I asked anxiously.

“Bridget Channing,” he answered.

I clenched my fists. “I need to check something. Can I use that computer for a moment?” I glanced at his desk.

“Go ahead,” he said.

I approached the CEO's desk and sat in the chair. I opened some documents and found the problem. Mom, no, Bridget Channing found out that I borrowed money from Channing Enterprises for operating expenses.

However, the payment hadn't been due. Gosh. Bridget must have taken over Cullen's shares. That wasn't right. I was his legal wife. I was entitled to my husband's inheritance. That woman took my son. And she snatched my company, too?

After taking the confidential papers from the vault, I left. I studied our prenuptial in the car. My whole body went limp. I forgot a crucial point. All compensation and rights as an heir would take effect after our fifth wedding anniversary.

I took out my phone and quickly called Cullen's attorney. I asked the man many questions after he picked up the call. His answer made me even more uneasy.

“Sorry, I can't help, Mrs. Channing. The prenup is legally valid. Although you are Cullen's wife, you are not automatically his heir. The provisions regarding children and property only take effect after your marriage is five years old,” my attorney explained.

“Keane is my son. As his biological mother, I have more rights to my son,” I stated.

“If this agreement didn't exist, we could help you win custody of Keane. Unfortunately, we can't do anything about it,” he replied. He was Channing's attorney. Of course, he wouldn't help me.

Shit. Shit. Shit! I didn't care about Channing's fortune, but my son and my parents' business were mine. I had time to pay my loan to Channing Incorporation. Bridget shouldn't have eliminated me from my seat.

How stupid of me. I shouldn't have been so arrogant as to agree to that five-year deal. Cullen was young. Therefore, I believed he would live a long life. Moreover, he was healthy and didn't have any diseases. But the accident ended everything.

I needed the money to pay a good lawyer to help me win my claim for custody of my son. Keane wasn't Cullen's inheritance. There had to be a way to get him away from them. And Dad …. My God. I had to pay for his debt.

I returned home and headed upstairs to my room. I entered the walk-in closet, but something was different about the place. The clothes, bags, shoes, and other accessories were in place. However, I felt something had changed.