A typical morning at the bank began, as usual, with an overwhelming number of calls and clients, but Alex was used to it by now. Twelve years on the job will toughen you up to just about anything. His boss popped into his office.
— Alex, I’m sending you a request now. Check everything on this loan agreement and get back to me. It’s urgent.
— Got it, — Alex replied, waiting for the notification from the work system where his boss’s request would appear, while tuning out a client’s ramblings about how all banks would collapse in the near future. The request popped up.
Alex copied the number, pulled up the details, and dialed his boss’s number, still half-listening to the client’s doomsday predictions for bank employees.
— Robert, I’ve looked it over and checked everything. The last payment was five years ago, and there’s a default of a couple million.
— Oof. Alright, send me the details.
— Done. What’s this for, if I may ask?
— The bank’s suing the borrower. We’re gathering materials. They’ll likely push for recovery by any means.
— I see, — Alex’s eyes drifted to the borrower’s data. — Wait a sec, this is an elderly woman born in the 1940s!
— Yeah, that’s the deal, — his boss replied grimly and hung up.
A couple of months after that conversation, Anna Wilson was counting her money for the week’s groceries. Her health demanded quality food, but her pension couldn’t cover it. And then there were the medications—expensive ones, no less.
The elderly woman sighed and shuffled to the enameled cookie tin where she kept the money she’d borrowed six years ago. There wasn’t much left. What would she do when it ran out? Anna didn’t even want to think about it. When she realized she couldn’t repay the loan, she simply stopped making payments.
She knew full well how this would end, but something else mattered more to her. Anna had taken the loan to cover costly medical procedures. Back then, she never imagined things would turn out this way, never thought her own son would betray her.
The old landline phone rang. Anna walked over and picked up the receiver.
— Hello?
— Hello, is this Anna Wilson? — an unfamiliar male voice asked.
— Yes, that’s me, — she sighed, resigned. She knew these calls too well. It was the bank, demanding repayment.
— This is Alex Spencer from the bank. You took out a loan six years ago, — the man paused. — Are you aware of your outstanding balance?
— Yes, I know, — Anna replied indifferently. She was a proud woman and had no intention of begging for forgiveness.
— You owe the bank over five million dollars, — Alex clarified, just to be sure.
— That’s correct.
— And you haven’t made payments in five years.
— I haven’t, — Anna sighed again.
— If you’re facing financial difficulties, we could arrange refinancing or debt restructuring…
— I don’t need anything, — Anna interrupted. — I’ll pay off the loan and the overdue interest.
Alex paused briefly. He didn’t know how to break the news to her about the near-instant court ruling on her case.
— I’m very sorry, Anna, — he began. — But the bank has decided to take legal action. The court issued a ruling. Your accounts are frozen, and all funds are being seized to cover the loan. This week, bailiffs will visit to inventory your property. If nothing is done, the bank will revoke your rights to your apartment and sell it to settle the debt.
— What…? — Anna froze. She had suspected this day would come, but so soon and so suddenly… There was no time to do anything.
— I strongly suggest you urgently try to restructure the debt. It could help spread out the payments and reduce the monthly penalty interest.
— I’m well past thirty, too old for the bank to approve such things, — Anna said with a faint smile.
She understood the man on the phone was trying to help, but it would all be a waste of time.
— I worked as an accountant for a long time, so I know what I’m talking about.
— Why did you stop making payments? — Alex couldn’t hold back.
The elderly woman seemed so reasonable, and he decided to break protocol for phone conversations.
— Family circumstances, — she shrugged. She wasn’t about to pour out her life story to a stranger from the bank. — Anna, please understand, I don’t wish you any harm. Do you have relatives you could stay with?
— No.
— But you just said…
— Because of my family circumstances, I stopped making payments, — she emphasized.
Alex sighed heavily.
— I strongly advise you to talk to the bailiffs, seek their advice if you don’t trust me.
— What’s there to ask? I’m to blame, so I’ll pay the price. I’ll move to a nursing home.
— That’s not free either. And all your accounts will be frozen.
— Then I’ll live on the streets. It’s summer, after all, — Anna shrugged.
— Please, this isn’t a joke! The bank will sell your apartment at its cadastral value, which is lower than market value! The proceeds still won’t cover the debt.
— What can I do? — Anna replied indifferently. — Good thing there’s state-funded burial.
— Come to the bank, we’ll discuss everything. We’ll find a solution.
— I would, Alex, if there were any solutions left, — Anna sighed. — But it’s all pointless now. Thank you for your concern, it was very kind. Goodbye.
She hung up and slowly sank into her armchair. For a few minutes, she sat stiffly, as if she’d swallowed a rod, as the saying goes. Then she broke down, sobbing loudly, unashamed of her emotions. Her heart ached, her head throbbed, and her ears rang with the rush of blood. Somehow, Anna stifled another wave of hysteria and went to the medicine cabinet for Corvalol, Validol, Captopril for her blood pressure, and valerian tincture.
That’s how she’d been living these past few years. She called this mix of cheap medications her “tear remedy,” and it usually helped within minutes. Anna lay on the couch, pressing both hands to her head, trying not to think. She needed to call her son. It might be their last conversation. She waited for the medicine to take effect, calmed down, got up, and went to the phone.
She knew her son’s number by heart but hesitated to dial the familiar digits. Still, she longed to hear his voice. Feeling utterly defeated, Anna picked up the receiver and slowly dialed. The phone rang for nearly a minute before someone answered on the other side of town.
— I told you not to call, — a gruff male voice snapped.
— Andy, — Anna’s voice trembled as she said her son’s name. Despite the sedatives, she couldn’t hold back tears. — Don’t hang up. Tell me how you’re doing.
— Same as always, — Andy replied curtly.
— How’s little Jake?
— You know damn well how Jake is! — Andy shouted.
He couldn’t stand these conversations. Anna sighed heavily, trying to hide her tears.
— Andy, this might be the last time we talk. Please forgive me for what happened.
— You know, if you hadn’t insisted on your decision that day, things might’ve been different. You wanted it that way. I shouldn’t have listened to you, — he seemed oblivious to the despair in his mother’s voice, no longer considering her his mother. — I don’t want to talk to you anymore.
— Son, wait! — but Andy had already hung up. Anna broke down again.
The one thing she blamed herself for in life was that day when her son turned his back on her. Andy wanted nothing to do with his mother, didn’t call, answered her calls maybe once every six months, and only to remind her of her mistake. He offered no help with the loan, no support for a nursing home, and didn’t care whether she was repaying the debt. To him, Anna was the enemy, and he wouldn’t lift a finger for an enemy.
A few days later, there was an insistent knock at Anna’s apartment door. She had been unraveling since her call with her son, unable to manage her high blood pressure. She wasn’t really trying, either—just taking the pills she had left, with no plans to get more. Anna opened the door without even checking the peephole.
— Good afternoon. Bailiffs, — two men introduced themselves. — We’re here to inventory your property.
— I see. Come in, — Anna opened the door wider.
She no longer cared about her possessions, her apartment, or her debts. Her only regret was that her son wouldn’t forgive her, even before her death. Surviving on the streets at nearly 80 was impossible. The bailiffs did their job impassively, asking no questions. They left as soon as they were done. Anna couldn’t imagine what advice she could’ve asked from them.
The next day, she went to the store for a basic grocery haul since even her bread had run out. She bought milk, a loaf of bread, and cheap cereal for porridge without butter. Her doctor had stressed the need for vitamins, fruits, and varied food, but… Anna fought back tears. She had $40 left—maybe enough to rent a cheap motel room or stay in a nursing home for a couple of weeks. Either way, she had to stretch it. What good would a couple of weeks do? She could stay in her apartment until it was sold.
She could survive on $40 for almost a month if she skipped her medications entirely. And why bother with them now? As Anna returned home and climbed to her floor, she dropped her grocery bag and clutched her chest.
On her door, in white paint, someone had scrawled: “Pay your debt!” The paint was fresh, still dripping. The bank had sent collectors. Anna sank onto the stairs, sobbing. She knew how these people operated—she remembered the ‘90s. She didn’t want pain, didn’t want anything. She just wanted to live out her days in peace. Her heart stabbed sharply, and she struggled to breathe. She unbuttoned her light coat, gasping for air, but it didn’t help. A neighbor from across the landing heard her cries and came out.
— Anna! — the man exclaimed, rushing to her side.
— Steven, thank God, — Anna whispered through blue lips. — My heart’s hurting bad. Could you call an ambulance?
— Of course, right away, — Steven pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket and dialed 911.
As he made the call, Anna stared silently at her door. “Pay your debt!”
— It’s done, they’re on their way. God, how did this happen to you… Hang in there, I’ll help you get inside, — Steven fussed.
— Thank you, Steven, — Anna murmured. He carefully helped her up, glanced at the writing on the door but said nothing, opened it, and helped her to the couch.
Then he quickly gathered the spilled groceries from the stairwell and brought them into Anna’s apartment.
— Hold on, the ambulance is coming, — Steven opened all the windows and brought her a glass of water.
He left the door open so the paramedics could get in quickly; the last thing they needed was the old lock jamming, like it did a month ago when he had to climb in from the upstairs neighbors’ balcony. Steven worried for Anna, knowing about her massive bank debt and her son’s abandonment, but he couldn’t help. He was just an electrician, barely making ends meet with a wife and two kids at home.
Everyone in the building loved Anna. She always gave candies to the kids and baked delicious pies for the neighbors. But no one could help with her bank debt, and she wouldn’t have accepted such help anyway. Steven felt ashamed he couldn’t do more, but in her eyes, he saw gratitude and almost motherly affection. He clenched his jaw.
— It’s because of your son, isn’t it? Why don’t you sue him? You could do that, — he decided to speak, knowing it might upset her more but unable to bear her grateful look for just calling an ambulance.
— I can’t, Steven. He has his reasons…
— No. You don’t treat your own mother like that. You’re not at fault, you took on huge debts, and now this message on your door! You just wanted to help. It’s not your fault what happened! It’s absurd to blame your mother for trying to help!
— Don’t shout, Steven, — Anna smiled weakly. — He has his reasons for treating me this way. I insisted on the surgery…
— So what? No one’s to blame for what happened! You need to do something, or you’ll lose your apartment.
— What can I do? I’m about to die anyway. Let them live in peace. I don’t have much time left.
— Don’t say that. We all love you, — Steven sighed, gathering his thoughts. — If you won’t sue, they’ll take your apartment. Come stay with me and Mary. It’s cramped, but you’ll have a roof over your head. I’ll get a couch, you can sleep there. No separate room, but it’s better than nothing.
— Thank you, Steven… — Tears welled in Anna’s eyes. Her own son offered nothing, yet her neighbor wanted to take her in. Her heart seized again. — No need, I’ll figure something out. I won’t burden you.
— You won’t burden anyone! I won’t hear other options. That’s it. I’ll move your things to our place later.
The paramedics knocked on the doorframe; the ambulance had arrived. They decided to hospitalize Anna immediately, diagnosing a severe heart attack. They carried her on a stretcher to the ambulance, which sped her to the hospital with sirens blaring. The critical phase of the heart attack hadn’t passed, and the doctors fought to save her life.
The next day, there was a commotion in the building. Steven peeked through his peephole, seeing Anna’s door across the hall. Two burly men were banging on it, then huddled together, seemingly trying to pick the lock. Steven couldn’t take it and stormed out.
— Hey! What are you doing?! — he shouted, hoping to scare them off. — I’m calling the cops!
— Call the SWAT team for all we care, — one of the men scoffed. — Our guys don’t care.
— Oh, back to the ‘90s, are we? — Steven challenged.
He stood no chance against two brutes, but he couldn’t let them rob Anna or trash her apartment.
— What do you want, man? — one of them finally turned.
— To get rid of you both, obviously.
The men laughed. — Go ahead, try.
— Why are you even here? You’re collectors, right?
— Suppose we are, — the bulkier one, with tattoos even on his wrists, crossed his massive arms and spoke like a seasoned thug.
— The bailiffs already came.
— And they sent us too, got it?
— Hold on, Lefty, — the other man interrupted his partner. — You said “her”?
— What, you don’t even know who you’re breaking in on? — Steven seized the chance, hoping to talk them out of it.
— They gave us an address, we came, — the one called Speedy shrugged.
— Did they tell you an 80-year-old pensioner lives here? — Speedy’s tough facade faltered in shock.
— What? Yo, Lefty… — A stream of slang followed, which Steven couldn’t decipher.
— Where’s the old lady? — Speedy demanded.
— The old lady, — Steven sneered, — was taken to the hospital with a heart attack because of your graffiti on her door.
— So, what, we go there now?
— You want to harass her there too? — Steven snapped.
— Just need to talk, given the situation… Look, man, beating up old ladies isn’t our thing, — Speedy said.
“Thank God they draw the line at old ladies,” Steven thought, relieved.
— I’ll take you there. I’m going anyway to visit her.
— Nah, we’ll drive you. Got our tools in the car, you know.
“As long as it’s not an axe,” Steven thought, agreeing. He couldn’t shake these guys, but at least the meeting might be safer this way.
Anna lay in a shared hospital ward. Her condition was still serious, but not critical enough for the ICU. The staff monitored her closely and were reluctant to let two “grandsons” and a neighbor visit, but the men persuaded them for a brief meeting. Steven entered first, carrying several bags.
— Oh, hello, Steven, — Anna smiled. — Thank you for saving this old woman.
— No need for thanks. Look, I got you some fruit and clothes from your place. Hope you don’t mind I went through your closet?
— Oh, not at all! Thank you so much. But no need for fruit, they feed me well here. Give it to your kids.
— The kids have plenty. Anna, don’t worry, but there are two other visitors. They’re the ones who landed you here. They want to talk.
— Oh, — her smile faded. — Collectors, right?
— Yeah. But they didn’t know they were targeting a pensioner’s apartment. Maybe explain things to them?
— Well, if they’re here, let them come in, — Anna said, resigned. Steven nodded and stepped into the hall to fetch the “grandsons.”
Lefty and Speedy cautiously entered, showing a hint of respect for her age.
— Oh, ma’am, sorry about this, — Lefty started, eyeing the frail woman. — We’d never… not with someone like you. My mom’s your age. How’d you end up on the blacklist?
— I forgive you for the door, but how do I get rid of the paint now? I’m stuck here, and they’ll probably sell my apartment soon, if they haven’t already.
— Tell us, ma’am, what’s the problem?
— Same as everyone’s. Took a loan, couldn’t pay it back. If I had, I’d have had no money to live. I had to do something else. Now, I don’t know what to do. No way to pay.
— Why’d you take the money then? — Speedy grumbled, earning a smack from Lefty.
— What’s it to you? — Lefty snapped. — We need to fix this.
— Enough! — Steven cut in. — Anna, either you tell them, or I will. This can’t go on.
— No, Steven, I won’t say anything. And don’t you dare.
— They won’t touch your son. But if they sell your apartment and the debt’s still there, and—God forbid—you pass away, the debt goes to Andy. They won’t visit your healthy son in a hospital over a door scribble.
— He’s right, — Speedy mumbled, getting another smack.
— Ma’am, if you’ve got something to say, say it. Your son’s not on our list. Not yet. But if things go as your neighbor says, he will be.
— Oh, Lord, what a fool I am… — Anna buried her face in her hands, trembling.
Lefty quickly poured water into a cup.
— Thank you… — Anna took a few sips and breathed deeply. — Sorry, my nerves are shot.
— Don’t worry, ma’am, just tell us. Maybe we can figure something out.
— Don’t touch my son.
— No one’s touched without a list. If he’s on it, though, that’s it.
Anna sighed again and took another sip.
— I have a son, — she began. — He got married, everything was fine. His wife got pregnant, and they had a boy, but with a severe hereditary defect. He needed an urgent, expensive surgery. My son and his wife didn’t have the money. Doctors said my grandson wouldn’t live past a year with that condition. So I went to the bank and took out a loan. It wasn’t enough for surgery in Germany, even with all their savings and loans from friends. But in the U.S., the surgery was cheaper, and the loan covered it. I told my son we had to operate on little Jake now, or it’d be too late! Julia, his wife, was against it, saying we should wait for more help, maybe start a charity fund. Andy listened to me, and they did the surgery here. But it went wrong. Jake’s been in a coma ever since! Oh, God! He’s six now, still in a coma! — Anna broke down, struggling to calm herself. — Andy blames me. I pushed for the surgery here, and they didn’t have the right equipment! Now his son’s been in a coma his whole short life! Every day, they give him expensive drugs, have a home doctor, do massages, just to keep him alive! And it’s all my fault! — She couldn’t go on, sobbing uncontrollably. Steven patted her shoulder, trying to comfort her.
— Wow… — Lefty said after a pause. — And you’re still giving them money, aren’t you?
— How could I not? He’s my grandson!
— Do they even let you in their house?
— No… — Anna shook her head.
— Man, that’s rough… — Lefty sighed. — Listen, Speedy, we need to talk. Ma’am, sorry we put you here. We didn’t know who we were dealing with. Usually, it’s shady guys on our list, not pensioners. We won’t touch your son, I swear, though he deserves it. Get well, ma’am.
The collectors left the ward and headed to the smoking area outside.
— What a mess, — Lefty repeated.
— What do we do now? — Speedy asked his senior partner.
— How much cash you got? All accounts.
— About sixty grand.
— I’ve got seventy. Her debt’s what, fifty-seven grand?
— Yeah, fifty-seven.
— That’s twenty-eight-five each, — Lefty calculated. — Can you do twenty-three-five?
— I’m in, — Speedy said firmly.
Some time later, Anna asked Steven to call the bank and find out when she’d be evicted. Reluctantly, he complied.
— Hello, this is Alex Spencer. How can I help?
— Hi. I’m calling on behalf of my neighbor. She’s in the hospital, no mobile phone.
— We only provide client information to relatives or the clients themselves.
— It’s urgent. They’re evicting her for debts. The bank’s selling her apartment. She’s in the hospital. I need to at least move her things to my place. Anna Wilson. I’m begging you, human to human.
— I’m sorry, I can’t help, — Alex hung up, then checked the caller ID, ran a quick search in the loan database, and couldn’t believe it.
He refreshed the system—nothing changed. Alex grabbed his phone and sent a brief message about the loan to the caller’s number.
Two strange “grandsons” kept visiting Anna in the hospital. For three days now, they’d been coming, bringing bags, leaving chocolates for the nurses, and Anna didn’t complain. On the contrary, she was happy to see them, and her bloodwork and heart function improved with the attention.
— Hey, boys! — Anna beamed.
— Hey, ma’am, — Lefty smiled as warmly as he could. — Brought you some goodies, here you go.
— Oh, stop it, that’s enough! — Anna waved her hands. — Take it to your families, not some old lady.
— Plenty to go around, — Lefty shrugged. — Got you some fruit, meds—checked with your doctor since you won’t tell us—some clothes too. Your robe’s falling apart, look at it.
— Boys, you’re supposed to be shaking me down for money, — Anna squinted slyly.
— Already shook you down, — Speedy grinned. — Brought you some knitting stuff and books. You like reading, right?
— I do, son, I do, — Anna laughed. — But I’ve got nothing to repay your kindness. Here, take these—I knitted you each a scarf, — she pulled two scarves from her bedside table. The collectors exchanged glances.
— Ma’am, come on! Wow, thank you! These are solid! — Lefty grinned, plagued by winter sore throats, which Anna had heard about.
— Yeah, thanks, ma’am! — Speedy chimed in, touched even though he wasn’t sick.
Lefty’s phone rang, and he answered without looking.
— Got it, — he said after a few short words. — Alright, Speedy, it’s done. Should we tell her?
— Tell her, — Speedy nodded, pleased.
— Ma’am, here’s the deal. When you’re discharged, go home. Your debt’s gone, — Lefty announced proudly. — We’ll clean the door too, — he added quickly.
— What… — Anna blinked, stunned. — No debt?
— Yeah, me and Speedy chipped in, closed it out fast.
Anna couldn’t believe her ears, but then Steven burst into the ward, excitedly recounting his call to the bank and a message from some Alex confirming the debt was fully paid. Anna sat in a daze, then broke down, crying for a long time. When she could finally speak, she thanked her collectors, who’d done more for her than her own son, and Steven, who’d offered her a home. She said she owed them for the rest of her life. The three men calmed her, laughing and brushing it off. Everyone was happy. The collectors had done a good deed instead of their dirty work.
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