Chapter 10: No Way Out

The dawn broke over Eliana Bennett’s small, soon-to-be-lost home. The morning was heavy with the scent of dew-soaked grass, but inside, the atmosphere was smothering, thick with despair. Eliana sat at the worn kitchen table, her honey-brown eyes scanning a crumpled notepad filled with frantic scribbles—phone numbers, addresses, and desperate plans. Her long, curly black hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands clinging to her tear-streaked face. Across from her, Frank Bennett slumped in his chair, his frail frame trembling as he sipped weak tea, his eyes distant and hollow. "Papa, we’re not giving up," Eliana said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She reached across the table, squeezing his hard fingers. "I’ve got a list of people to call today. Lawyers, maybe even someone from Mr. Holloway’s estate. We’ll fight this." Frank’s gaze flickered to her, his lips parting in a weak smile. "You’re so much like your mother when she was kind," he murmured, his voice raspy. "Always believing things can be fixed." Eliana’s heart clenched at the mention of the mother, who had abandoned them years ago. She forced a smile, pushing the pain down. "We’ll fix this, Papa. I promise." But promises were fragile, and the next three days tested their strength. Eliana threw herself into action, her slender frame darting through the city like a determined sparrow. She made calls until her voice grew hoarse, pleading with legal aid offices and local advocates. Most hung up when they heard the name Holloway, their tones shifting from polite to curt, as if the mere mention of the billionaire’s family was a curse. By the third day, Frank’s condition worsened. The fever that had plagued him for years returned with a vengeance, his skin burning to the touch, his breaths shallow and labored. Eliana found him that morning collapsed in the living room, clutching his chest, his face contorted in pain. "Papa!" Eliana screamed, dropping to her knees beside him. Her hands fumbled for her phone, dialing 911 as tears blurred her vision. "Stay with me, please, Papa, don’t leave me!" The paramedics arrived in a blur of sirens and urgency, their boots thudding against the hardwood floor. They lifted Frank onto a stretcher, his frail body looking impossibly small. Eliana clung to his hand as they wheeled him out, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. At the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic and the hum of machines surrounded her as she sat by Frank’s bedside, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The doctor, a tired woman with graying hair, delivered the news with clinical precision: a heart attack, compounded by his chronic fever and stress. He needed rest, medication, and a miracle. Eliana’s world tilted, but she refused to crumble. "I’ll find a way," she whispered to her sleeping father, brushing a damp cloth across his forehead. "I’ll talk to Mr. Holloway’s children. They have to listen." ********* The next day, Eliana stood outside the towering glass building of Holloway Enterprises, Margaret Holloway’s domain. The structure gleamed like a monument, its reflective surface mocking her pathetic life. She clutched a folder of documents—proof of Kenneth Holloway’s gifts to her father, letters of gratitude, anything that might sway Margaret’s heart. Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the revolving doors, her steps echoing in the marble lobby. At the reception desk, a woman with a severe bun and a tailored blazer eyed her skeptically. "Name and purpose?" she asked, her voice as cold as the air conditioning. "Eliana Bennett," Eliana said, straightening her shoulders. "I’m here to see Margaret Holloway. It’s about my father, Frank Bennett, and—" "Ms. Holloway doesn’t take unscheduled meetings," the receptionist interrupted, her manicured nails clicking on the keyboard. "Do you have an appointment?" "No, but it’s urgent," Eliana pleaded, her voice cracking. "Please, just tell her it’s about Kenneth Holloway’s estate. She’ll want to hear this." The receptionist sighed, picking up the phone. After a brief, whispered conversation, she pointed to a sleek elevator. "Fifteenth floor. Don’t waste her time." The elevator ride felt like an eternity, the mirrored walls reflecting Eliana’s anxious expression. When the doors opened, Margaret Holloway stood waiting, a formidable woman in her fifties with sharp cheekbones and a navy power suit. Her gray eyes assessed Eliana like a predator sizing up prey. "Ms. Bennett," Margaret said, her voice clipped. "I understand you’re here about my father’s... gifts." The word dripped with disdain. Eliana swallowed, clutching her folder. "Yes, ma’am. My father, Frank, worked for your father for years. Mr. Holloway gave us our home, our store. Now they’re being taken away, and my father’s in the hospital. Please, I’m begging you to reconsider." Margaret’s lips curled into a thin smile. "Begging," she repeated, stepping closer. "Do you know how many people come crawling to us, claiming my father promised them something? You’re nothing special, Ms. Bennett. Just another leech clinging to his legacy." Eliana’s face flushed, but she held her ground. "I’m not a leech. My father earned everything we had. He loved Mr. Holloway like family." "Family?" Margaret laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "You think you’re family? You’re a charity case, nothing more. Get out of my office before I have security drag you out." Humiliation burned in Eliana’s chest as she stumbled back to the elevator, Margaret’s laughter echoing behind her. But she wasn’t done. The next stop was Thomas Holloway’s company, a tech startup housed in a trendy loft space with exposed brick and neon signs. Thomas, the youngest Holloway, was known for his charm and ruthlessness. Eliana hoped he’d be more sympathetic. She was wrong. Thomas’s office was a chaotic blend of modern art and tech gadgets, with floor to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Thomas, a lean man in his thirties with slicked-brown hair and a tailored blazer, leaned back in his chair, smirking as Eliana stood before him, her folder trembling in her hands. "Oh, if it isn’t the little ’granddaughter’ my father took a shine to," Thomas drawled, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "What’s this about, sweetheart? Come to beg for scraps?" Eliana’s jaw tightened, but she forced her voice to remain steady. "Mr. Holloway, I’m here about the house and store my father was given by your father. They’re being taken from us, and my father’s in the hospital. I’m asking for your help to stop this." Thomas chuckled, standing and circling his desk like a shark. "Help? Oh, darlin’, you’re barking up the wrong tree. My old man was a soft touch, giving handouts to every sob story that came his way. But me? I don’t play that game." Eliana’s heart sank, but she pressed on. "It wasn’t a handout. My father worked for your father for years. He trusted us, cared for us. Please, Mr. Holloway, I’m not asking for charity—just fairness." Thomas stopped inches from her, his breath hot and reeking of coffee. "Fairness? Let’s talk about what’s fair. You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Maybe we could work something out." His hand grazed her arm, and Eliana flinched, stepping back. "Don’t touch me," she said, her voice shaking with fury and fear. Thomas laughed, his eyes glinting with malice. "Oh, come on, don’t be shy. A girl like you, desperate and all alone? I could make things real easy for you. Just say the word." Eliana’s stomach churned, and she bolted for the door, her folder falling to the floor in her haste. Thomas’s laughter chased her down the hall, a cruel echo that lingered as she stumbled into the street, tears streaming down her face. She ran until her legs burned, the city blurring around her, her pride and hope in tatters. ******** Back at the hospital, Eliana sat by Frank’s bedside, her hands clasped tightly as she watched the monitors beep. She had one last hope: a lawyer recommended by a nurse. The office was a cramped space downtown, with peeling wallpaper and a flickering fluorescent light. The lawyer, a balding man named Mr. Morris, listened to her story with a bored expression. "I’ll be blunt, Ms. Bennett," he said, leaning back in his creaky chair. "The Holloways are untouchable. They’ve got money, lawyers, and influence. You could fight, but it’ll cost you—ten grand upfront, minimum. And honestly? You’d lose. They always win." Eliana’s heart plummeted. "Ten thousand?" she whispered. "I don’t have that kind of money." "Then don’t waste my time," Morris said, already turning to his computer. "Move on, kid. Find a new place to live." ******** The week ended like a guillotine’s fall. Eliana packed their belongings in silence, each item—a chipped mug, a faded photo, the supermarket’s first dollar bill—carrying the weight of their crumbling life. Frank, discharged but frail, sat in a wheelchair, his eyes fixed on the floor. The threat of forced eviction loomed, and Eliana had no choice. They had to leave. She thought of Jason and Sarai, her best friends, her fiancé, her anchors. Her fingers hovered over her phone, aching to call them, to beg for help. But pride—and their silence since the night they dropped her and her father off—stopped her. They’re busy, she told herself, conjuring excuses. Jason’s got his family, Sarai’s got her classes and tests. Excuses shielded her from the truth. With nowhere else to go, Eliana took her father back to the hostel where she lived. She was still a student, after all, and this was the only place she could think of. Frank looked around in silence as she helped him inside, his shoulders hunched with exhaustion. Eliana set their few belongings down by her bed and guided him to sit, trying to ignore the ache building in her chest. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Her father, once so strong and proud, now sat before her looking lost and fragile. She swallowed the tightness in her throat and forced a small smile. This’ll do for now, Papa," she whispered, crouching down to untie his shoes. "But... we’ll be okay here. I promise." Frank didn’t respond. He only stared at the floor with empty eyes, as if all the light in him had burned out long ago. Eliana took a shaky breath and turned away to unpack, blinking back tears. She had no idea how she would keep her promise this time. As night fell, the house echoed with laughter and arguments from the helps. Eliana lay awake, staring at the chandelier, her mind racing. The hostel was a temporary refuge, but it’s luxurious, fragrant atmosphere hinted at new troubles brewing. For Eliana and Frank, their world had changed, and the path ahead was a maze of uncertainty.