The answer was the same:
“Oof, tough, man.”
Or,
“Sorry, I’m out of town.”
Or they simply didn’t pick up the phone.
The news of his downfall, which somehow started at the mansion meeting, spread faster than fire.
Hour eleven. In his desperation, he returned to the penthouse.
Aniya was trying on a new dress she had just bought that afternoon.
“How does it look, babe? Nice, right?”
“Sell it,” he shouted.
“What?”
“Sell it all,” he yelled, eyes red. “Sell your bags. Sell your jewelry. We are bankrupt.”
Aniya’s face paled.
“These… these are gifts, not investments. Are you crazy?”
“Zelica set a trap for me,” he raved. “That snake woman bought my debts. She gave us twenty-four hours to pay half a million dollars.”
Aniya didn’t care about the debt. She only heard one thing: the money ran out.
At 10:00 a.m. sharp the next day, exactly twenty-four hours later, the doorbell of his penthouse rang.
He hadn’t slept all night. He opened the door, hoping it was Zelica coming to cancel her threat after softening up.
No.
In front of the door was Seek, calm as a statue. Behind him, two well-dressed lawyers and a man in an official uniform holding a thick folder—the sheriff’s deputy.
“Your time is up, Mr. Quacy,” Seek said flatly.
“Wait, I need time—”
“Time is a luxury you didn’t give Zelica,” Seek interrupted.
He took a step forward.
“According to the order from the Fulton County Superior Court, we are here to execute the lien on this asset.”
The deputy began putting seizure stickers on the wall of the apartment foyer.
“No, this is my house!” Quacy shouted.
“Technically, it is the collateral for your debt to my client,” the lawyer corrected. “You and this young lady”—he looked at Aniya with disdain—“are required to vacate these premises in one hour. Take your essential personal effects.”
One hour later, the scene in the lobby of the Sovereign turned into a spectacle.
Quacy, the same man who ten years ago felt like the king of the place, was escorted out by security guards—the same guards who had thrown Zelica out before.
Aniya followed him, crying hysterically, dragging two suitcases full of her designer bags.
He wasn’t just bankrupt on paper. Now he was literally on the street, back at the ground zero he had created for Zelica, on the hot sidewalk in front of the lobby.
