Chapter 3: A distress call to mom

Ofelia’s POV

Just like cinderella, I went back reality. I was standing in the center of my apartment thinking about my life when there was a knock on the door.

I already knew who it was before I opened it. Mr. Ramirez, the landlord, stood there with his arms crossed, looking tired but firm. “Miss Bennett, your rent is overdue. Again. You have seventy-two hours to pay or get out.”

My stomach dropped. “Please, just a little more time. I’m trying—”

“I’ve given you extra days already,” he said, not unkindly. “I have my own bills. I’m sorry, but that’s it. Seventy-two hours.”

The door closed, and I slid down to the floor, hugging my knees. Seventy-two hours. That was all I had left in the only place that still felt like home, even with Ethan’s ghost haunting every empty corner.

I spent the first day calling everywhere. I applied for every job I could find—waitress, cashier, bookstore shifts, even cleaning positions. My phone stayed silent. The few places that called back took one look at my credit report and ghosted me. Ethan’s debts had wrecked everything. Collections calls came every hour talking about Late fees and the Interest piling up. My name was ruined.

I dragged my jewelry box to the pawn shop. The necklace my grandma gave me, the earrings I bought with my first paycheck, even my old laptop. They gave me four hundred dollars total. It felt like selling pieces of my soul for pennies. I used it to buy cheap groceries and printed more resumes, but it was nothing compared to what I owed.

By the second day, I couldn’t eat. My hands shook when I tried. Sleep was impossible. I lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying everything. How had I let this happen? Three years with Ethan, and he left me with nothing but his mess.

The final day came too fast.

I packed my life into two old suitcases and a backpack. Clothes, a few books, toiletries, the one photo of me and Mia from college. Everything else—the couch we picked out together, the dishes, the stupid rug—stayed behind. The apartment looked even sadder half-empty. Just like when Ethan left.

Mr. Ramirez came at the deadline with two guys to make sure I left. I handed over the keys with tears burning in my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He nodded but didn’t say anything else. I dragged my suitcases down the stairs, the wheels bumping loudly. Each step felt heavier. Outside, the afternoon sun was too bright. The street noise felt mocking—people going about their normal lives while mine had completely fallen apart.

I sat on the curb next to my bags, exhausted and broken. My back hurt. My heart hurt worse. Rock bottom wasn’t supposed to feel this real. I had no money for a hotel. No friends with spare rooms—Mia was already crashing with her cousin. No family nearby that I wanted to burden.

My hand brushed something in my jacket pocket. I pulled it out slowly.

Damien’s business card.

The black card felt thick and expensive between my fingers. Damien Voss. Voss Enterprises. I stared at it for a long time. For one weak moment, I imagined calling the company. Telling him everything. Maybe he will help. Maybe that night meant something to him too.

My thumb hovered over my phone screen.

No.

I shoved the card back into my pocket. Pride burned in my chest. I refused to be that girl—the one who ran from one man’s mess straight into another’s arms. Damien had given me one perfect night, and that was enough. I wouldn’t become dependent on anyone again. Never.

I wiped my face and pulled out my phone. There was only one person left to call.

Mom answered on the third ring, her voice bright and cheerful like always. “Ofelia! Sweetheart, how are you?”

The sound of her voice almost broke me again. I swallowed hard. “Mom… things are bad here. Really bad. Ethan left, and he took everything. The money, my credit… I just got evicted. I’m sitting outside with my suitcases. I don’t know what to do.”

There was a short pause. Then she sighed softly. “Oh honey. I’m so sorry. But actually, sweetheart, this is perfect timing. Why don’t you come stay with me and my new husband?”

I froze, gripping the phone tighter. The traffic noise faded. Everything around me went quiet.

“New husband?” My voice came out small and shaky.

She laughed lightly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yes! I got married last month. I wanted to tell you in person, but things have been so busy. He’s wonderful, Ofelia. Rich, kind, and he has this huge house with plenty of room. You can stay as long as you need. It’ll be good for all of us.”

I sat there on the curb, suitcases beside me, the weight of her words sinking in. Married? Mom had always been single since Dad left when I was little. She never even dated seriously. And now a new husband? A rich one?

My mind spun. Part of me wanted to scream. Another part felt a tiny flicker of hope. A place to stay. Food. Safety. But something felt off. Too convenient. Too sudden.

“Mom, I… I don’t even know what to say. Who is he?”

“You’ll meet him soon enough,” she said warmly. “Pack your things—well, I guess you already have. I’ll book your flight tonight. Just come home, baby. Everything will be better here.”

I looked down at my worn sneakers, at the two suitcases holding what was left of my life. Homeless. Broke. Heartbroken. And now this.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll come.”