My Cult-Leader Husband Smashed a Porcelain Plate Over My Head to Steal My Apartment, but My 911 Call Triggered an Unstoppable Chain of Events
The taste of bitter coffee lingered as I walked through the covenant’s public administrative wing. My heart pounded against my ribs. I had dressed in muted tones, hoping to blend in, my story being that I needed to collect some “personal items” from the enclave.
The atmosphere was tense, hushed. Whispers followed me, hushed condemnations and pitying glances. But I had a mission.
I slipped into the main ledger room, a place usually bustling with activity, but now strangely quiet after the public scandal. The Elder’s office door was slightly ajar. A single, aging desktop computer sat on a heavy oak table, displaying an open spreadsheet.
My engineering brain processed the data almost instantly. Mortgage payment schedules. Due dates. And most critically, outstanding balances.
My eyes widened. The covenant, or specifically, the Halloway family, had defaulted on not one, but three separate agricultural mortgages. One for the main sanctuary grounds, another for the communal farm fields, and a third for the new housing development. Each loan was substantial, well into the millions.
I scrolled down, my breath catching. The spreadsheet clearly stated that the “remedy for default” on these loans was cross-collateralization. And what was the primary collateral listed for these massive debts?
My apartment building.
My stomach churned. Malachi hadn’t just wanted my property for some vague family debt. His family was completely insolvent, drowning in hundreds of thousands of dollars in overdue payments. They were relying *entirely* on my apartment building’s inflated value as collateral to avoid imminent bank foreclosure on the entire enclave. This wasn’t greed; it was desperation. My building was the linchpin, the last asset keeping their crumbling empire afloat. They weren’t just trying to take my property; they were stealing to survive.
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