“It’s 4:30 PM, Ethan,” the lead man said. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that sent a primal shiver down my spine. “We were told the wire transfer from your wife’s newly acquired inheritance would be initiated by 4:00 PM to clear the principal and the penalty fees. Our accounts show zero incoming transfers.”
Ethan scrambled backward, his hands shaking so violently he knocked over a vase on the console table. It shattered loudly against the hardwood floor. He bumped into his mother. Linda, the arrogant, screaming matriarch who had demanded my money five minutes ago, was suddenly, entirely mute with absolute, paralyzing terror. She shrunk behind her son, her eyes wide and panicked.
“Listen, gentlemen, please, there’s been a slight delay,” Ethan stammers, his voice pitching up into a hysterical, pathetic whine. He holds his hands up defensively. “The… the probate hit a snag. The money is there! I swear it’s there! My wife, she—she just needs to authorize the release!”
Ethan desperately pointed a trembling finger directly at me, actively trying to throw me to the wolves to save his own miserable skin.
The three massive men slowly turned their dead, predatory eyes toward me.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cower. I didn’t hide behind my husband.
I calmly picked up my designer purse from the armchair. I adjusted the strap on my shoulder. I walked smoothly and deliberately toward the front door, stepping directly into the path of the three loan sharks.
The lead man frowned, stepping slightly to block my exit. “Hold on, lady. Your husband says you have our money.”
I stopped. I looked the massive, dangerous man dead in the eye, projecting an aura of absolute, untouchable authority.
