Saw Through His Fake Debt Scam, No Mercy Anymore

On the night of our wedding anniversary, my husband burst through the front door covered in blood, dropping to his knees and weeping uncontrollably.

Maria, you have to save me! I borrowed from loan sharks, and if I don't pay them a million dollars tonight, they are going to chop off my hand!

His mother followed right behind him. She pressed a kitchen knife against her own throat, trying to force me to sell the premium brownstone my late parents had left me.

"Maria, he is your husband! We can always buy another house, but if he dies, you'll have nothing!"

Watching this mother and son duo deliver their Oscar worthy performances, a genuine laugh escaped my lips.

"I will sell the house. But I have one condition."

"What condition?"

"I want to sit here and watch them chop off one of his fingers first, just to verify these loan sharks are actually real."

It was eleven o'clock at night.

The frantic, violent twisting of the deadbolt shattered the dead silence of the house. Wesley stumbled through the doorway, reeking of copper and sweat. Before I could even stand up from the sofa, he dropped heavily to his knees right in the foyer.

A thick, nauseating smell of blood instantly filled the air.

His crisp white dress shirt was dyed a horrifying crimson. His face was covered in dark purple bruises, and his left arm hung at a sickening, unnatural angle.

"Maria, save me... you have to save me!"

He bawled, snot and tears streaming down his bruised face. With a violently trembling hand, he pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and slapped it onto the hardwood floor.

It was an IOU.

Amount: One million dollars.

Borrower: Wesley.

Right at the bottom was a stark, bloody thumbprint.

I remained seated on the velvet sofa, the novel in my hands still open. My eyes coldly swept over the crumpled paper, and then slowly trailed up to his pathetic face.

"One million dollars. What exactly did you spend it on?"

Wesley completely froze. He clearly hadn't expected my first reaction to be a calm interrogation instead of screaming or rushing to bandage his wounds.

A second later, he wailed even louder.

"I... I just wanted to buy us a bigger estate! I invested in crypto with a buddy, and the entire market tanked. We got completely wiped out!"

"Maria, they are underground loan sharks! The interest compounded daily until it hit a million!"

"The boss made it perfectly clear. If he doesn't see the cash by midnight, he is taking my life! He's going to chop off my hands!"

As he screamed, he crawled across the floor like a desperate dog and threw his arms around my calves. The blood from his expensive tailored trousers instantly smeared all over my silk pajamas.

"Baby, I know you can fix this! That brownstone your parents left you in the Upper East Side is worth exactly a million on the market right now. Sell it, please. I am begging you!"

Ah. So that was the endgame.

I didn't move a muscle. I just looked down at him, a cold, mocking smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Wesley, did you somehow forget? That house is the only piece of my parents I have left. It is strictly my pre-marital property."

Wesley stiffened.

A flash of raw resentment and disbelief crossed his eyes, but he quickly buried it under a mask of pure panic.

"Maria, how can you draw lines between what's yours and what's mine at a time like this?"

"I am your husband! Are you seriously going to sit there and watch me get murdered?"

"How can you be so utterly heartless? What is more important, money or my life?!"

His voice cracked into a hysterical shriek, his spit landing on my plush slippers.

I pulled my leg away in absolute disgust, stood up, and looked down at him from above.

"Life is obviously more important."

"But Wesley, what makes you think your life is worth a million dollars?"

"What did you just say?"

Wesley's eyes bulged as if he were staring at a complete stranger.

The old Maria was a soft, submissive pushover who catered to his every whim. The old Maria would have cried for an hour if he so much as got a paper cut.

But right now, faced with her blood-soaked husband, I was treating him like a bad investment.

"I said, you aren't worth it."

I bent down, picked up the bloody IOU by the corner, and flicked the paper with my fingernail.

"A crypto investment?"

"As far as I know, you don't even know how to open a basic brokerage account. What's the name of this so called buddy? What is his phone number? I am going to call him right now and verify this."

Wesley's eyes darted around the room in a blind panic. He stammered frantically.

"He... he's a guy from the underground. You can't just call him!"

"Baby, please stop asking questions and just go get the property deed! I already contacted a realtor. They found a cash buyer who is willing to close tonight! The offer is a little below market value, but it will save my life!"

He already had a realtor and a buyer lined up.

Whoever wrote this script for him was incredibly thorough.

Right at that moment, the door to the guest bedroom violently slammed open. Martha, my mother-in-law, charged out with her hair wildly disheveled. In her right hand, she gripped a sharp paring knife.

"Maria, you venomous, cold blooded witch!"

She shrieked, pressing the tip of the blade directly against her own throat. Her eyes were completely manic.

"My son is bleeding out on the floor, and you're worried about a stupid piece of real estate?! Are you trying to force the two of us into early graves?!"

"Let me make this crystal clear. If you don't hand over that deed right now to save my boy, I will slit my throat right in front of you! I'll make sure the whole world knows you drove your own mother-in-law to suicide!"

Wesley immediately played his part, screaming in terror. "Mom, don't do it! Put the knife down! Maria doesn't mean it!"

"She means every word! All she cares about is her dirty money! She wants you dead!" Martha pressed the blade slightly deeper into her skin.

It didn't draw blood, but the theatrical display was certainly intimidating.

If this were the old me, I would have been scared out of my mind. I would have sprinted to the safe and handed over the deed without a second thought.

Unfortunately for them, they were entirely out of the loop.

Just last night, I had placed a GPS tracker under Wesley's luxury sedan.

He hadn't been anywhere near an underground casino or an investment firm. He had spent the entire evening at The Plaza Hotel, rolling around in the sheets with his college sweetheart, Mindy.

I watched this beautifully choreographed performance of maternal sacrifice and undying marital love, feeling nothing but a deep sense of absurdity.

"Mom, hold the knife steady. Don't let your hand shake."

My voice was so eerily calm that it practically froze the air in the living room.

Martha froze completely. The knife was still pressed against her neck, but she didn't know whether to push deeper or pull away.

"What... what did you just say?"

"I said, if you really want to kill yourself, I am not going to stop you."

"But you should know that if you bleed out in my living room, this place officially becomes a stigmatized murder house. The property value will plummet, which means we won't get enough money. Wesley will just die a little faster."

I calmly walked over to the water dispenser, poured myself a glass of iced water, and took a slow sip to soothe my throat.

"Maria! Are you even human?!"

Wesley leaped up from the floor. He completely forgot he was supposed to be a crippled victim, pointing a furious finger right at my nose.

"My mother is about to end her life, and you're making sarcastic jokes?! Do you want me to kill myself right now to prove it?!"

"Sure."

I set my glass down, looked him dead in the eye, and took a slow step toward him.

"Then kill yourself right now."

"Didn't you say the loan sharks were going to chop off your hand?"

"If you're going to die anyway, what's a few missing fingers?"

I turned my back on them and walked straight into the kitchen.

Wesley and Martha exchanged terrified, bewildered glances, having absolutely no idea what I was doing.

A few seconds later, I walked back out, holding a heavy, razor sharp meat cleaver.

The polished steel gleamed under the living room lights.

"Ah! What are you doing?!" Martha shrieked, dropping the paring knife onto the floor with a loud clatter.

Wesley stumbled backward in pure terror until his back slammed against the wall.

"Maria... baby... put that down... don't do anything crazy..."

"I am not doing anything crazy."

I slammed the heavy cleaver down onto the glass coffee table. The impact rattled the teacups.

"Since those men want your hand, I might as well do it for them. It's much safer."

"I am your wife. It is my legal and moral obligation to help you."

I smiled sweetly at Wesley's chalk white face.

"Chop it off, and I will personally deliver it to them in a cooler. We settle the debt, you keep your life, and we save a million dollars. It's a phenomenal return on investment."

Wesley stared at the massive blade. His Adam's apple bobbed violently.

Cold sweat mixed with the fake blood on his face, making him look utterly pathetic.

"Maria... have you lost your damn mind?"

"I am your husband! You want to mutilate me?!"

"I don't want to mutilate you. You just need to pay your debts."

I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him squirm with absolute amusement.

"What's wrong? You don't have the guts?"

"Or... is it possible that there are no loan sharks at all? And nobody is actually trying to chop off your hand?"

Panic flared in his eyes. He immediately scrambled to defend his lie.

"Of course there are! It's real! Baby, stop messing around and go get the deed! The buyer is literally waiting downstairs in the lobby right now!"

"Downstairs?"

I caught the slip up instantly.

"The big bad loan shark boss personally came to our lobby to collect a property deed? Wow, their customer service is incredible."

Wesley realized his mistake and desperately tried to cover his tracks.

"No... it's the realtor! The cash buyer is waiting down there! The second they verify the deed, they wire the million dollars!"

"Oh, a cash buyer."

I nodded slowly, acting as if he had finally convinced me.

"Since they are already here, have them come up."

"What?" Wesley blinked in confusion.

"I said, tell the buyer to come up."

"It's a million dollar transaction. I need to look them in the eye. What if they're a scam artist?"

I glanced at the antique grandfather clock.

"It is eleven thirty. We have exactly thirty minutes until your midnight deadline."

"Have them come up, sign the contracts, initiate the wire transfer, and hand over the deed. Simple."

Wesley clearly hadn't anticipated this curveball. His eyes darted nervously toward the front door.

"That... it's the middle of the night. It's totally inappropriate to invite a stranger up..."

"What exactly is inappropriate? Is it more inappropriate than getting your hand severed with a machete?"

My face hardened, and my tone dropped to a freezing command.

"Wesley, you either invite them up right now, or I am calling the police to have a detective look into this phantom loan shark operation."

Hearing the word "police", Martha started wailing all over again.

"You can't call the cops! If you call the cops, Wesley's reputation will be ruined! How is he supposed to show his face at work?!"

Wesley looked completely horrified. He gritted his teeth and nodded.

"Fine. I'll tell them to come up. Just go get the deed, Maria. Don't keep them waiting!"

He pulled out his phone and turned his back to me, furiously typing out a text message.

I watched his back, my eyes colder than ice.

Since you want to put on a show, Wesley, I will gladly play along until the curtain drops.

I just hoped the "buyer" coming up the elevator was ready for their cue.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell chimed.

Wesley bolted toward the door like a startled rabbit and yanked it open.

A man in a dark trench coat walked in, his face hidden behind a surgical mask and sunglasses. Trailing right behind him was a woman.

The woman pulled down her mask, revealing a flawlessly contoured, beautiful face.

Mindy.

I knew it.

Wesley's beloved college sweetheart. The woman who had him so utterly mesmerized that he was willing to orchestrate an elaborate, violent fraud just to steal my inheritance.

"Mr. Wesley, is the property deed ready?" Mindy asked, putting on a sickeningly professional tone.

Wesley bowed repeatedly, playing the desperate victim to perfection.

"It's ready! Everything is ready! Maria, bring out the folder!"

I stayed seated on the sofa. My gaze slowly swept over Mindy from head to toe.

"And who might you be?"

"I am the proxy attorney representing the buyer. My name is Mindy."

She pulled a sleek business card from her designer handbag and handed it to me.

"Mrs. Maria, time is of the essence. We should proceed with the signatures immediately."

"An attorney?"

I took the card, glanced at it, and let out a soft chuckle.

"This season's latest Chanel tweed jacket, paired with a custom Hermes Birkin. Practicing law must be incredibly lucrative for you, Miss Mindy."

Mindy's expression cracked for a split second, but she quickly recovered her icy composure.

"My wardrobe is a private matter. Let's not deflect from the crisis at hand."

"I was informed that your husband needs immediate liquid capital to save his life. My client is only taking this property off your hands as a personal favor. If you miss this window, he dies."

"She's right, Maria! Please hurry!"

Wesley was sweating bullets, reaching out to pull me off the sofa.

I slapped his hand away and slowly pulled a thick red, leather bound folder from the drawer beneath the coffee table.

The second that folder appeared, all the air was sucked out of the room.

Wesley's eyes burned with rabid greed. Martha audibly swallowed her saliva. Mindy even took an involuntary step forward, her manicured fingers twitching.

"Here is the deed."

I placed the heavy red folder onto the glass table and rested my palm flat against it.

"But before I hand this over, I have one question for our esteemed attorney."

Mindy stared at the folder, clearly losing her patience. "What is your question?"

"You claimed to be representing a cash buyer. So tell me, do you actually have one million dollars in liquid funds on you right now?"

"Of course."

Mindy reached into her Birkin and pulled out a slip of paper.

"This is a certified cashier's check for exactly one million dollars. The moment you sign the transfer, it clears."

I took one glance at the check.

It was a blatant, pathetic forgery.

A cheap movie prop that could only fool an absolute idiot. Or, more accurately, Wesley knew perfectly well it was fake. He just needed to trick me into signing the transfer so he could put the house in Mindy's name and leave me with nothing.

"Perfect. Let's do this."

I nodded, picking up the heavy red folder and extending my hand toward him.

Just as Wesley's greedy fingers were about to brush the leather cover, I violently flipped my wrist and smashed the heavy book directly into his face.

Smack!

The sharp, brutal sound echoed through the living room.

Wesley staggered backward, clutching his bleeding nose, staring at me in total shock.

"Maria! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What's wrong with me?"

I stood up, pointing a furious finger down at the red book on the floor.

"Open your damn eyes and look at what you're actually trying to steal!"

Wesley scrambled to his knees, picking up the book with shaking hands. He flipped the cover open, and all the blood instantly drained from his face.

It wasn't a property deed.

It was a copy of the State Penal Code.