I Just Finished Chemo And Found My Locks Changed. My Daughter Handed Me A Trash Bag Of My Clothes And Said I Was No Longer Her Problem. Now, I Own Every Cent Of Debt She And Her Husband Have. Who Is The Dead Weight Now?

The Closet

I turned to leave the study, but suddenly headlights swept across the front window, illuminating the room in a blinding flash. The crunch of tires on the snow in the driveway was loud in the silence. I froze. They were back. Why were they back so early? It was barely 9:00.

I heard the garage door rumble open. Then the sound of voices. Not just two voices. Three.

I moved to the window and peered through the slat of the blinds. Madison and Brandon were getting out of the car, but they were with a man I didn’t recognize. He was tall, wearing a long wool coat and carrying a sleek leather portfolio.

“We can show you the structure tonight,” Madison was saying, her voice carrying through the cold air. “The lighting is actually better in the evening to see the finishes. We want to be ready for the signing tomorrow.”

They had brought the buyer’s agent. They were doing a final walkthrough tonight. Panic seized my chest. I could not go back out the basement way. The door to the basement was in the kitchen, and that was exactly where they were heading. If I tried to run now, they would see me. And if Brandon saw me here, knowing what I knew about his debt to Vargos, he might do something desperate. A man who owes half a million dollars to a loan shark is a dangerous animal.

I heard the front door beep and unlock. “So this is the foyer,” Madison said, her voice echoing in the hallway. “High ceilings, original molding.”

I was trapped. The study was right off the living room. There was no other exit. I looked around frantically. My eyes landed on the closet in the corner. It was a small walk-in closet where I used to keep my winter coats and my old construction gear. It was the only place in the house they hadn’t touched yet because Madison thought it smelled like old dust and didn’t want to ruin her manicure moving the heavy boxes.

I scrambled across the room, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it would crack them. I pulled open the closet door and squeezed inside, pushing myself back behind a row of heavy wool coats that still smelled of my cologne and sawdust. I pulled the door shut just as the study door creaked open.

“And this is the library,” Madison said, flipping on the light switch.

I held my breath, pressing my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound of my own wheezing lungs. Through the thin slats of the closet door, I could see slices of light. I could hear their footsteps on the hardwood floor.

“It is a beautiful space,” the stranger said. “Very classic.”

“Yes,” Brandon added, his voice nervous and tight. “We cleared out most of the old man’s junk. The safe in the corner stays with the house, obviously. We do not have the combination, but a locksmith can crack it easily enough.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. They were standing 5 ft away from me. 5 ft away from the man they were trying to erase. If they opened this closet door, if they decided to show the agent the storage space, it was all over. I gripped the handle of a hammer I had left on the shelf years ago, my knuckles turning white. I was not going to let them take me without a fight.

“Let’s check the master bedroom next,” Madison said. “The view of the garden is lovely.”

I waited. The seconds stretched into hours. Then I heard the footsteps retreat. The light clicked off. The door closed.

I sagged against the wall of the closet, sweat dripping down my forehead despite the freezing temperature. I was safe for now, but I was trapped in my own home, hiding like a criminal while the real thieves gave a tour of their loot.

I waited in the dark, listening to them move upstairs. I knew I had to wait until they left or until they went to sleep. It was going to be a long night. But as I touched the cold steel of the hammer in my hand, I felt a grim resolve harden within me.

Let them have their tour. Let them dream of Paris. Because tomorrow when they wake up, they are going to find out that the old man in the closet has a very long memory, and he is done playing nice.