“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

Those collectors seemed to have a sixth sense. They attacked exactly when Mark had fallen to his lowest point. The phone kept ringing. Calls from unknown numbers started pouring in. Mark panicked. He threw the phone to the ground, smashing it as if to silence the bitter reality that was haunting him. But breaking the phone wouldn’t make the problem go away. The debt was real, and now he had to face it alone without a cent in his pocket. Mark’s colleagues, witnessing the complete destruction of their former boss, began to leave one by one. They no longer wanted anything to do with him. They looked at him with disgust and contempt.