| September 29, 2023 – 8:10 PM
Lin had just finished unpacking a few boxes when her phone buzzed again.
Mom.
She frowned, wiping her hands on her jeans before answering. "Hey, everything okay?"
The second Helen spoke, Lin knew something was off.
"Lin, you're not going to believe this."
Her mother's voice was a mix of disbelief, exhaustion, and something sharper—anger.
Lin's spine straightened. "What happened?"
Helen let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "I resigned."
Lin blinked. "Wait, what? Just like that?"
Helen exhaled, the sound tight. "Not exactly. The owners showed up today. Unannounced. Walked in like royalty and started tearing the place apart—paperwork, inventory, procedures—everything."
Lin's eyes narrowed. "An audit?"
"If you can call it that. More like a takedown. Went straight for my assistant first—blamed her for misfiled records, overdue invoices, even supplies going missing." Helen's voice was clipped, furious. "She was sloppy, sure, but this? This wasn't on her."
Lin already knew where this was going. "They fired her."
"On the spot. Had security walk her out." Helen scoffed. "Then they sat me down and told me—very politely—that my 'management style' wasn't working. That the clinic had been losing money for months, and it was time for 'tough decisions.'"
Lin gritted her teeth. "They wanted you gone."
"They wanted me to quit. That way, they wouldn't have to pay me severance." Helen's voice was razor-sharp now. "So, I let them have what they wanted. I handed in my resignation right then and there."
Lin sat down, tension coiling in her chest. "And then what?"
Helen let out a slow, measured breath. "They told me not to come in tomorrow."
Lin's stomach dropped. "Wait—why?"
A pause.
Then—"They're shutting the clinic down."
Silence.
Lin's fingers curled against the edge of the table. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." Helen's tone was eerily calm now. "They lost their main investor. The owners decided it wasn't worth keeping open. The audit? The firings? It was all for show. They just needed an excuse to cut and run."
Lin exhaled sharply, rage simmering beneath her skin. "So they burned the place down on their way out just to avoid paying anyone?"
Helen let out a bitter chuckle. "Pretty much."
Lin stared at the wall, mind already calculating, plotting.
"They owe you money."
Helen sighed. "They do. But you and I both know they'll drag it out in legal battles. It's not worth the fight."
Lin's jaw tightened. "It is to me."
Helen paused. Then—"Lin." A warning.
Lin forced herself to breathe, unclenching her hands. "Fine. For now."
Helen exhaled. "Guess my timing was… perfect."
Lin huffed a dry laugh. "You always did have good timing, Mom."
Helen let out a real chuckle this time. "Guess I'm heading to the farm sooner than expected."
Lin smirked, her voice lighter, but still edged with determination. "Good. I'll get your room ready."
Helen's voice softened. "Looks like we're really doing this."
Lin nodded, even though her mother couldn't see it.
"Yeah. We are."
| September 29, 2023 – 8:45 PM
Lin tapped her fingers against her phone, mind already racing ahead.
The clinic was closing. They needed to get rid of everything.
And Lin?
She had cash, a use for that equipment, and zero sympathy for rich idiots who mismanaged their business.
She picked up her phone and dialed the clinic's main office—not the manager, not the local staff. She went straight to the top.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Then—a crisp, older voice answered.
"This is Marian Reed. Who am I speaking with?"
Lin leaned back in her chair, voice calm, professional—neutral. "I heard your clinic is shutting down."
A pause.
Then, a measured response. "That's business I don't discuss with strangers."
Lin smirked slightly. "It's business I can help you with. I know you're closing, and I know you'll need to liquidate your equipment—fast. I'm calling with an offer."
Another pause. Interest.
"And what exactly are you offering?" Marian's voice was sharp, wary.
Lin didn't hesitate. "I'll take everything—medical equipment, exam tables, cold storage units, pharmacy shelving, sterilization stations. Full sweep."
Marian's tone cooled. "And what are you willing to pay?"
Lin knew how to play this game. "Twenty percent of retail. Cash."
Silence.
Then—a sharp laugh. "Young lady, I don't know what kind of fool you take me for, but I won't be giving away tens of thousands of dollars' worth of equipment for pennies."
Lin glanced at her laptop, quickly pulling up price estimates in her head.
Retail value? Easily over $400,000.
At 20%? $80,000.
A steal.
Lin stayed calm. "You can take my offer, or you can waste time piecing things out and dealing with buyers who'll haggle you down for weeks. Meanwhile, you'll still be paying storage costs, utilities, and insurance on a place that's shutting down."
Marian was silent.
Lin pressed. "You want this clinic off your hands. I want the equipment. I'll have cash in hand, and I'll have everything cleared out by tomorrow. One day. No hassle."
A slow exhale came through the phone.
"You said cash?"
Lin smirked. "Cash. Today."
A long pause.
Then—"Fine. The deal is for today. Be here by noon tomorrow to clear everything out."
Lin's smirk widened.
"Pleasure doing business with you."
| September 29, 2023 – 9:00 PM
Lin strolled back into the pizzeria, phone still warm in her hand, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. Across the booth, Richard was finishing off the last slice of pizza, chatting with Greg about old muscle cars.
She slid back into her seat, tapping her fingers against the table.
Richard glanced up, immediately suspicious. "You've got that look."
Greg snorted. "Yeah, she looks like she just robbed a bank and got away with it."
Lin smirked. "Better. I just bought an entire clinic's worth of medical equipment—for pennies."
Richard froze mid-bite. "Come again?"
Lin leaned forward, grinning. "The owners of Mom's clinic? They're shutting it down and liquidating everything. I just made a deal to buy all their equipment for twenty percent of retail."
Richard blinked. "You're joking."
Lin sipped her Coke. "Nope. I'll have it cleared out by tomorrow."
Greg let out a low whistle. "Damn. You don't waste time, do you?"
Richard shook his head, still processing. "You just… called them and bought everything?"
Lin shrugged. "Made them an offer they couldn't refuse."
Richard smirked. "Guess we better break the news over dinner."
Lin's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, I think I'll let her sleep on it."
| September 29, 2023 – 9:30 PM
Lin stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, phone pressed to her ear. The place was winding down for the night—fewer customers, the scent of lingering garlic and baked dough, the quiet hum of kitchen staff closing up.
Her fingers tapped idly against the counter as the call connected.
"Express Haul Moving, this is Travis."
Lin didn't waste time. "I need a full-service crew for tomorrow morning. Medical equipment relocation. One-day job."
A slight pause. "Tomorrow? That's short notice."
Lin smirked. "That's why I'm willing to pay rush rates."
Travis's tone shifted immediately—from doubtful to interested. "How big a job are we talking?"
"Clinic shutdown. Full clear-out. Exam tables, storage units, refrigeration, shelving, medical-grade machinery." Lin kept it smooth, efficient. "Nothing overly complicated, but I need it done fast."
Travis hummed, thinking. "We can do it, but last-minute's gonna cost you."
Lin didn't hesitate. "I'll cover whatever premium you need. I just want efficiency. You bring the manpower and the trucks—I'll have cash on-site."
Silence. Then, a slow chuckle. "Alright, lady. You pay, we move. Send me the address and expect my guys at nine sharp."
Lin smirked. "Perfect."
She hung up, slid her phone into her pocket, and turned back toward the booth where Richard was waiting.
"Alright, truck's booked. We'll be in and out by noon."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "And now you're driving back to the city?"
Lin grabbed her keys, smirking. "Got to make sure everything's locked down before they change their minds."
Richard shook his head, half amused, half impressed. "You don't stop, do you?"
Lin flashed a grin. "It's an investment."
And with that, she pushed open the door and stepped into the night—already three steps ahead of everyone else.