Devon woke at 6:47 a.m. to screaming.
Patricia burst from the guest room, pale, shaking, phone thrust toward him like a weapon.
“Look,” she gasped. “Look at this!”
An email from Coastal Federal Bank.
Cold. Clinical.
Her mortgage note had been transferred.
Her loan was being called.
Payment due in thirty days.
Foreclosure pending.
Devon blinked, brain fog thick. “This… this doesn’t happen. Banks don’t just…”
His phone rang.
Gerald Hutchinson. Owner of Premier Motors.
Devon answered, forcing cheer into his voice. “Gerald, good morning…”
“You’re fired,” Gerald said flatly. “Effective immediately.”
Devon’s stomach dropped. “What? Why? Is this about yesterday—”
“New ownership directives,” Gerald cut in. “Our primary investor has concerns about your character. They own forty-three percent of this dealership. Their requests aren’t really requests.”
Devon’s mouth went dry. “Who is the investor?”
A pause. “EM Holdings.”
Click.
The call ended.
Devon stood in the kitchen like someone had removed gravity.
Then the dominoes kept falling.
His bank account froze pending investigation.
His credit cards declined.
His gym membership terminated.
His company car recalled.
The life Devon wore like a suit began unraveling stitch by stitch.
His phone buzzed.
Vanessa.
Relief surged through him, desperate and childish. At least she was still here. At least he had someone.
He answered, breathless. “Vanessa, something insane is happening. I got fired. My mom’s mortgage—”
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