Chapter 5
The success of The Donnelly Center brought unwanted attention,
and the local news began running features on Mave's work.
They called her a modern crusader,
a woman who was fearlessly taking down predatory lenders,
and giving hope to the forgotten people of the city.
But visibility always comes with a price,
and one afternoon,
a familiar face appeared in the reception area of her downtown office.
It was Mr. Henderson,
the manager of the dingy diner where Mave had worked for five years,
the man who used to count her tips and dock her pay if she was a minute late.
Mave recognized him immediately through the glass walls of her office,
his cheap suit wrinkled,
his face lined with exhaustion and a new kind of desperation.
She told her assistant to let him in,
and she remained seated behind her sleek mahogany desk,
her hands folded calmly in front of her.
Mr. Henderson walked in nervously,
twisting a battered fedora in his hands,
looking entirely out of place in the elegant,
modern room.
"Mave,"
he started,
his voice wavering slightly as he looked at her expensive clothes,
and the confident posture she now carried naturally.
"It's Ms. Donnelly now,"
Mave corrected him gently,
but with a firm boundary that demanded immediate respect.
He swallowed hard,
and nodded quickly,
taking a seat in the plush leather chair opposite her desk.
"Ms. Donnelly,"
he repeated,
clearing his throat uncomfortably.
"I saw you on the television,
and I heard about what this place does for people in trouble."
Mave waited in silence,
letting the silence stretch out,
refusing to make this easy for a man who had never shown her a shred of kindness.
"I got involved with some bad people,"
he confessed,
his eyes dropping to the floor in shame.
"Online gambling,
and then loans to cover the losses,
and now they are threatening to take the diner,
and my home."
Mave looked at the man,
and she remembered the countless nights she had stayed late to clean his floors,
while he yelled at her for being too slow.
A small,
vindictive part of her wanted to laugh,
to tell him to get out,
to let the wolves tear him apart just like they had almost torn her apart.
But she took a deep breath,
and she looked at the framed photograph of Landon and June on her desk,
and she remembered what it meant to choose mercy.
"We have a legal team,"
Mave said evenly,
picking up a silver pen and pulling a fresh notepad toward her.
"We will review your contracts,
and if they are illegal predatory loans,
we will file an injunction by tomorrow morning."
Mr. Henderson looked up,
his eyes wide with shock and sudden,
overwhelming relief.
"You would help me?"
he whispered,
a tear leaking out of the corner of his eye.
"After how I treated you?"
"I am not helping you because you were kind to me,"
Mave stated coldly,
looking him dead in the eye.
"I am helping you because I refuse to let monsters win,
and because my revenge is proving that I am entirely better than you."
He broke down crying,
thanking her repeatedly as her assistant guided him to the legal department,
leaving Mave alone in the quiet office.
She leaned back in her chair,
and she let out a long breath,
feeling a massive weight lift off her chest.
She had faced a ghost from her old life,
and she had not shrunk away,
May you like
and she knew that she was finally,
truly free.
