Anthony lunged for the phone.
He never reached me.
The stranger caught him by the shoulder and pulled him back, not violently, but with enough force to make the message clear.
“Stay where you are.”
Anthony stared at him.
“I’m the one who owes you money.”
“Yes,” the man said.
“That is becoming obvious.”
Brittany started crying then.
Real tears this time.
She shifted the baby against her chest and said, “We can fix this.”
I looked at her.
Three hours earlier she had laughed while I lay broken at the bottom of the stairs.
Now she wanted everyone to become reasonable.
Anthony began bargaining.
He said he could get more money.
He said the house would be his eventually.
He said I had promised it to him.
Then he made the mistake that Marcus had been waiting for.
“I only copied the signature because he kept stalling.”
Nobody spoke.
Anthony realized what he had said.
His mouth stayed open.
Through my phone came Marcus’s quiet voice.
“Got it.”
The second stranger stared at Anthony.
Brittany whispered, “You idiot.”
Anthony turned on her.
“You told me to do it.”
Her face changed instantly.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You said he’d never fight us.”
“I said talk to him.”
“You found the notary.”
“Shut up.”
It was almost remarkable.
They had spent months cooperating against me and less than thirty seconds destroying each other once consequences entered the room.
The baby began to fuss.
That sound cut through everything.
I suddenly felt very tired.
Pain rolled through my hip so hard I nearly lost consciousness.
Marcus heard my breathing change.
“Vincent, stay with me.”
“I’m here.”
“Help is coming.”
The first stranger looked down at me.
“What did he say?”
“Help is coming.”
Both men looked toward the front of the house.
For the first time, they appeared uncertain.
One of them moved toward the door.
Too late.
Red and blue light flashed against the kitchen wall.
Anthony stared at me as if I had somehow betrayed him.
“You called the cops?”
“No.”
