I explained the situation to the doctor in a rush of breathless words, but the hospital's policy was carved in stone: full deposit before they could proceed with the heart transplant.
No hesitation. I sprinted home, ready to put the property on the market that very hour.
*Mom is only fifty.* My chest constricted. *She has decades left. I can't let her die.*
An old classmate had once mentioned wanting to buy my place. My fingers shook as I dialed her number.
"Do you still need a house?" The words tumbled out.
"Actually, yes."
Relief hit me like a wave. A shaky laugh escaped my throat. "Great."
But the moment I hung up and reached my front door, my feet stopped moving.
Strangers. Inside my living room. Inspecting my walls like they owned them.
"Who the hell are you?" I stepped inside. "Why are you breaking into my house?"
One of the men sneered. "Breaking in? Don't make me laugh. From this moment on, this house belongs to us."
"Excuse me?"
"Your wife sold it to us." He looked bored, like I was wasting his time. "Something about needing cash to save her lover's business. Transaction's done. Money's transferred. So get the hell out."
The words didn't compute. Not at first.
Then they did.