Chapter 15 - The Unseen Ledger
Natalie slumped back in her plastic chair, her shoulders collapsing inward as the last vestige of her pride evaporated into the hot, dusty air.
"What do you want, Emma?" she asked, her voice dropping into a broken, defeated whimper.
"Do you want me to beg?"
"Do you want me to crawl across this filthy floor and kiss your boots?"
"Because I'll do it."
"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them from locking me out on the street in this weather."
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a single manila folder, tossing it onto the table beside her unpaid electric bills.
She stared at the folder as if it were a venomous snake coiled up among her papers.
"Open it," I commanded.
With trembling fingers, Natalie untied the cotton string and flipped the cover open.
Inside was a single typed document detailing a job offer at the Dayton International Airport car rental counter where she currently worked part-time.
Except this wasn't an entry-level fourteen-dollar-an-hour gig.
It was an executive operations management contract with Apex regional transit logistics, paying ninety-five thousand dollars a year.
Natalie stared at the figures, her breath catching in her throat as she read the line item twice.
"This... this is a management salary," she stammered, looking up at me with utter confusion.
"Why would you give this to me?"
"Because poverty makes people stupid, Natalie, and I don't need stupid people running my Midwestern distribution hubs," I said smoothly.
"You have a degree in logistics management that you earned while Scott was paying your tuition."
"You know how to route freight, schedule drivers, and manage regional supply chains."
"You are going to work sixty hours a week under Marcus Vance."
"Every single cent you earn above your basic living expenses will go directly toward reimbursing the federal restitution fund for your husband's crimes."
"You will work off every dollar he stole, one freight manifest at a time."
Natalie stared at the paper, the reality of the golden handcuffs settling over her shoulders with crushing weight.
"And if I refuse?" she whispered, terrified of the answer.
May you like
"If you refuse, the sheriff padlocks this door by five o'clock," I replied without blinking.
"And you can spend the winter sleeping in the back of the rental vans you spend all day cleaning."
