Chapter 8 - The Wire Transfer
By mid-January, winter had locked Chicago in three feet of ice and howling winds that whipped off the frozen expanse of Lake Michigan.
I sat at my kitchen counter, wrapped in a fleece cardigan, sipping hot green tea while my laptop booted up.
A notification from my bank popped onto the screen with a cheerful chime.
DIRECT DEPOSIT RECEIVED: $21,620.00 FROM VANCE & STERLING ESCROW TRUST.
A second alert followed:
MEMO: FINAL REIMBURSEMENT PROCEEDS - RE: DEREK & AMANDA PROPERTY LIQUIDATION.
I stared at the numbers. Added to the twenty thousand Derek had wired two months earlier, the entire forty-one thousand, six hundred and twenty dollars had returned to my account.
Every single dime I had sacrificed over four years of stress, skipped vacations, and secondhand furniture was sitting in my savings.
My phone vibrated on the counter. It was Derek.
"Did it clear?" Derek asked the moment I picked up.
"It just hit the ledger, Derek," I said, a deep sense of relief washing through my voice. "You didn't have to prioritize me over the mortgage settlement."
"You were the only creditor in this entire nightmare who didn't charge us interest, Emma," Derek replied with genuine warmth. "The house in Naperville sold in six days. After the bank took their equity and the credit lines were closed, there was just enough left to clear your balance and give me a fresh start."
"Where are you living now?" I asked.
"I rented a two-bedroom loft near the rail yard in the West Loop," he said. "Clean, simple, walking distance to my engineering firm. I bought a secondhand couch last weekend, Emma. It’s surprisingly comfortable."
We both laughed—a clean, healing sound that washed away the lingering poison of that holiday dinner.
"How is Amanda?" I asked gently.
"The divorce was finalized on Tuesday," Derek said, his voice quiet. "She didn't contest anything. The judge ordered her to complete a mandatory debt-counseling program as part of the asset forfeiture. Her lawyer said she hasn't missed a single shift at the call center."
"Good," I murmured. "She needs the structure."
"She does," Derek agreed. "Take care of yourself, Emma. Buy yourself something ridiculous with that money. You earned it twice over."
I hung up, looking around my modest, tidy apartment.
I didn't want to buy something ridiculous. I didn't want French leather bags or designer coats that cost three months' salary.
I closed my laptop, pulled my boots on, and walked three blocks down the street to the local bank branch.
Thirty minutes later, I walked out into the falling snow carrying a certified cashier's check made out to the Department of Education.
May you like
My master's degree student loans were officially, permanently paid to zero.
I stood on the snowy sidewalk, watching the exhaust plumes of city buses rise into the gray winter sky, feeling lighter than I had in an entire decade.
