Left for Dead Came Back for Everything novel Chapter 140

She took a deep breath and backed out of the text message.

Her finger hovered between two contacts for a moment before she dialed Mr. Sterling.

He answered quickly.

"Mr. Sterling, it's Eliza Shaw."

Her voice had returned to its business-like composure.

"I'm calling to check if the handwriting analysis request can be submitted today? And how soon can we expect the results?"

"Ms. Shaw, my assistant prepared all the paperwork this afternoon. We will submit it to the forensics center first thing tomorrow morning. Under standard procedures, we should have the results in ten business days at the earliest."

Ten business days.

And the loan sharks had explicitly stated—today was the final day.

"There's one more thing," Mr. Sterling's tone turned cautious.

"The interest rate on your brother's loan agreement exceeds the legal limit. If the forensics confirm the signature isn't yours, you won't be liable for a single cent."

"However, if they resort to extreme measures before the results are finalized, you need to call the police immediately."

Eliza's nails dug into her palms.

"I understand. Thank you, Mr. Sterling."

She hung up.

The debt collector's text was still glowing on her screen.

Eliza closed her eyes and leaned back against the sofa.

The wail of an ambulance siren echoed in the distance outside her window.

Suddenly, a crushing wave of exhaustion washed over her.

It wasn't physical fatigue.

It was that suffocating feeling of finally seeing the light, reaching out to grab it, only to feel the swamp beneath her feet violently violently drag her back down at the exact same moment.

So what if she signed a massive fifty-thousand-dollar contract?

The money hadn't hit her account.

Her knee wasn't fully healed.

The debt was still hanging over her head.

Her divorce wasn't finalized.

Her father was still in the hospital.

Her brother was still out there gambling.

Her mother was still scheming against her.

Yvonne was still haunting her candidate list.

And Zander was still legally bound to her name.

Eliza opened her eyes.

She looked down at her left leg.

[If your leg is still aching, use the medicinal oil I sent last time. Massage the outer-knee pressure point, thirty-six times clockwise.]

Two more seconds.

[Goodnight. Sweet dreams.]

Three messages.

No probing, no interrogation, no 'What's wrong?' or 'Is something bothering you?'

Just—did you make it home. Where to put the cake. What to do if her leg hurt.

And goodnight.

Eliza stared at the screen for a very long time.

Long enough for the screen to go dark automatically.

In the black reflection of the glass, she saw her own face—hollow cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

Then, she typed out a few words and hit send.

[I'm home. Thank you.]

After sending it, she placed the phone face down on the sofa.

She reached down and gently rubbed her left knee.

The daisies on the windowsill swayed softly in the night breeze.

The white petals looked like a quiet, comforting patch of moonlight.