Desperation tasted like ash in Chloe’s mouth. Her boutique was a ghost town, her suppliers refusing new orders, and her credit utterly destroyed.
She needed cash. Fast.
Her only remaining asset, she thought, was the boutique building itself. It sat on prime Main Street real estate, a valuable piece of property.
She drove to the Oak Creek Savings & Loan, her heart pounding with a fragile hope.
“I need a $50,000 bridge loan,” she told the loan officer, trying to project an air of calm professionalism. “Using my commercial property as collateral.”
The loan officer, a young man named Kevin who had known Chloe since high school, typed on his computer. His brow furrowed.
He checked the property records, then double-checked. He pulled up documents I had never even known existed, until Arthur had shown me.
“Ms. Garrick,” Kevin said, his voice hesitant, “I’m sorry. But the property at 142 Main Street, where your boutique is located, is part of the Garrick Family Land Trust.”
Chloe frowned. “Yes, my father set that up. What’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Kevin explained, flipping through papers, “is that the trust was recently activated into an irrevocable, sole-survivor lockbox. Due to Article Seven, Section C, it’s completely frozen.”
Chloe’s breath hitched. “Frozen? What does that mean?”
“It means,” Kevin said, his voice flat, “the property cannot be leveraged, sold, or used as collateral for any loan. The deed is locked. Completely and permanently, until the death of the primary beneficiary, Evelyn Garrick.”
Her own boutique. The building she had poured years of her life and countless dollars into. It was hers, yet utterly out of her control. It couldn’t save her.
Her last hope for solvency, for escaping the crushing weight of debt, had vanished. She walked out of the bank in a daze, the numbers on her credit rating scrolling behind her eyes, the echo of “frozen” ringing in her ears.
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