Chapter 8 When There's No One Left to Call

Oh, perfect. Because what my life really needed was another mess, Elena thought, rolling her eyes so hard she almost gave herself a headache. She actually let out this weird, half-snort laugh when Elvano's hand latched onto her wrist-like, seriously? Was this guy for real?

"You honestly think you can just walk away?" Elvano barked, all boss-mode, as if they were still trapped in that stale conference room.

Elena shot him this bored look, the kind you reserve for telemarketers. "Yeah, actually, I do. I'm late. Let's argue at the office, maybe. Or never. Bye."

She yanked her arm back-didn't even need to try that hard. Elvano just kind of stood there, blinking like someone had unplugged him. It wasn't just the fact she slipped away so easily; it was that she looked so chill about it, like she was daring him to make a scene.

"Marrying my boss? As if," she grumbled internally, stalking off down the street. "The universe must be having a laugh."

She let out a low breath, trying to shake off the irritation simmering in her gut-his stupid, possessive grab had kind of ruined her day.

Honestly, she was done. Totally out of energy for their usual back-and-forth. They already sparred enough in the office-no way she was about to add a sidewalk episode to the highlight reel.

Elvano just stood there, hands on his hips, jaw set so hard it probably hurt. Elena always knew how to needle him with those razor-edged words...but this time, something weird lingered. Was that... admiration? No way.

He stared at his own hand, turning it over like it was some kind of alien artifact. His brow knotted up, totally baffled.

That split second-when she just slipped right out of his grasp, like it was nothing-honestly, it rattled him. He'd always thought of Elena as the quiet type, maybe even a bit delicate if he was being real. But nope, she was pure titanium under all that calm. He'd wanted to pull her aside, have one of those "serious talks," convince her to stay.

Now? Hell if he even remembered what he'd planned to say.

A woman like her shouldn't've been able to get away from him-his grip was solid, trained. And she just... did. Barely tried. Like she'd been dodging guys like him since birth, like it was muscle memory. Maybe it was.

Even after her tail lights blinked out at the corner, Elvano just stood there, stuck in rewind. He finally sucked in a breath, let it out slow, and headed inside, feeling a bit like he'd missed the last train.

Upstairs, his mom-still fuming, obviously-crossed his path. Narima didn't even break stride, didn't even glance his way, just ghosted past into her room. Door shut, conversation over.

He never did get to ask Elena why she'd shown up. If it was about that whole arranged marriage disaster, or if-god help him-she was the one he was meant to marry. Too late now.

***

Elena drove home in dead silence, eyes half on the swaying tree branches, half on the wreck of her thoughts. Narima's offer, the whole mess piling up behind it... felt like she was walking through a minefield, honestly. The low drone of the engine just gave her brain more space to freak out.

As soon as she got back, she jumped into action-no time to wallow. Phone out, scrolling through contacts, dialing one after another. She just needed someone-anyone-to spot her the cash. Didn't even care who at this point.

"Jeez, Elena, I wish I could help, but hundreds of thousands? I mean, what do you think I am-Jeff Bezos' secret twin?" That's basically how every chat went. Smiles and sorrys, the usual song and dance-but nobody's actually stepping up.

"Maybe try a bank loan?" another friend chimed in, like that was some brilliant new idea.

Elena tried not to roll her eyes. "Yeah, sure, maybe," she mumbled, chewing back the acid in her voice.

It sucked. She'd always been the go-to when people needed help-late-night drives, bailing them out of trouble, even tossing them cash when payday felt too far away. But now? Poof. Friends vanished like Houdini when she was the one who needed saving.

Everyone had their own sob story: "Money's tight," "It's such short notice," "You know how things are..." Maybe they were being honest. Maybe it was just their way of saying "no" without looking like jerks.

"Honestly, Elena, banks are your best bet," the friend insisted. "Way more cash than I could lend, anyway."

"Sure, yeah. Thanks," she muttered, ending the call before they could throw any more 'helpful' advice her way. The phone hit the couch. She slumped back, hands scrubbing her face. That was it. She'd called everyone she could think of. List: exhausted.

Ask her boyfriend for money? Not a chance. That'd just toss gasoline on a dumpster fire. His parents already eyed her like she was some gold-digging villain-and this would just prove them right in their eyes.

The dread clamped down on her chest. Their relationship was already a mess, thanks to family drama straight out of a bad soap opera. To his folks, she'd never be more than the kid whose mom "stole" their first love-her dad, who, for the record, dated his mom before ditching her for someone else. Who needs reality TV when you've got that?

Elena shook her head, trying to shove those anxious thoughts into the back of her mind. No time for a meltdown now. Focus, girl.

"So what, I really gotta drag myself to the bank?" she muttered under her breath. "Ugh, those damn interest rates..."

Seriously, the idea of borrowing from the bank? Like playing with fire-maybe it'd put out the flames today, but tomorrow? Who knows, maybe she'd just end up with a bigger mess.

Then-boom-her brain finally fired up. She jolted off the couch, almost like she'd been hit with a jolt of caffeine.

"Wait. Insurance. That's coming, right? I could just pay back whatever I borrow once the check lands. I just gotta sell enough stuff now so I don't go too deep."

Alright, plan set. No more dragging her feet. She dove headfirst into sorting through all her stuff. Hospital visit? Yeah, that'd have to wait. This was the emergency of the night.

Time basically slipped right past her. Next thing she knew, it was midnight. Classic.

Frustrated, she clawed her fingers through her hair. She'd turned the place upside down and, honestly, most of it was borderline junk.

A couple pieces of jewelry she'd worn to those awkward fancy parties, the matching watches she and her dad had rocked for years, some random fitness crap, a folding bike collecting dust in the corner. That was the haul.

Honestly, she and her dad never gave a damn about flashy brands. Designer labels? Pass. Comfort and practicality, that's what he always drilled into her. Guess that stuck-still does, for better or worse.

Then it hit her-the savings. God, she hoped they'd be enough.

Brow all scrunched up, she fired up her ancient laptop, fingers stumbling over passwords like she could will the numbers higher just by typing fast. One bank, two banks, checking, savings, even that weird joint account with her dad.

"This can't be it," she whispered, like the screen might hear her and feel guilty. But the numbers stared back, cold and smug. Not even close. A hundred and fifty grand, maybe, if she squeezed every penny. She needed four times that. Insurance? Pfft. What a joke.

She drummed a pen on the desk-thwack, thwack, thwack-like the rhythm could shake loose some money. Her other hand held up her head, which felt about three thousand pounds heavier than usual.

"Guess I'm selling the car," she grumbled. Not just hers. Dad's too. She tried to do the math in her head, but even her most optimistic dream-self couldn't make it work. Still came up short.

Should've bought something flashier, she thought, maybe a Beemer or a Tesla-something that screamed "rich person in trouble." But no, she and her dad always went for the safe, boring options. The kind of car you could spill coffee in and not care about.

She finished stuffing whatever looked valuable into a suitcase-even those little gold bars her dad kept tucked away "for emergencies." Well, Dad, this sure as hell qualified.

Morning came, and she became a one-woman yard sale. Jewelry, gone. That dumb treadmill she never used, gone. Gold bars-bye, little bricks of hope. She drove the cars to the dealer, barely listened to the guy lowball her. Whatever, just take them. She didn't even flinch. No time to argue, no energy left to care. Just get the cash and get to the hospital. That was it.

Once everything was gone, Elena just kind of sat there, staring at her phone like maybe the numbers would suddenly blink and say "just kidding." Spoiler: they didn't. The bank balance glared back-cold, cruel, totally unimpressed by her optimism. It didn't matter how much she tried, the gap felt like the Grand Canyon.

She muttered, "Still not enough, huh?" Half to the phone, half to herself.

Her face twisted up-eyebrows knotted, jaw clenched. She didn't even bother hiding how pissed off and just plain tired she felt. All those cars she and her dad used to pick out together? Might as well be scrap metal now. Seriously. What a joke.

Lost in her head, she barely noticed the silence until-bam-her phone blared to life. She flinched, glanced down, and there it was: one of her dad's old guys calling. The name alone made her chest clench. Ugh.

"Miss Elena, sorry to disturb you. The staff is wondering if... maybe salaries could come a bit sooner? This week's been rough."

She said nothing. Just breathed-slow, heavy, like she was trying to blow a hole through the wall.

A few seconds ticked by.

Then, out of nowhere, she let out this tiny, broken laugh. It wasn't happy. If anything, it sounded like she was laughing at herself, or maybe the universe.

"Yeah, hilarious," she muttered, voice flat, almost daring the ceiling to disagree.

To be continued...