The judge gave him ninety days.
Refinance—or pay me back.
He couldn’t do either.
When Audrey explained it to Beulah days later, she gripped her cup like it might anchor her.
“Can he really lose this house?” she asked.
“Yes,” Audrey said. “He can.”
Hudson tried everything after that—guilt, anger, promises that sounded hollow even as he said them.
But banks don’t respond to pride.
They respond to numbers.
And his didn’t add up.
The house went on the market in April.
It sold faster than I expected.
A doctor named Henderson bought it—someone who didn’t care about the story, only the property.
At closing, the room was quiet.
The mortgage was cleared. My debt repaid in full.
