The Shadow Tycoon
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 66: Empty Hands at Home
“Did you get paid?”
The moment Anderson unlocked the front door, a worried face appeared before him.
Meeting his wife’s gaze, he looked down guiltily at the floor. He turned and carried the boxes from the doorstep inside.
“No,” he muttered, his voice muffled and irritable.
“No?” Mrs. Anderson’s skin had long since lost the benefits of proper care. Nasolabial folds, crow’s feet, wrinkles across her forehead. Her complexion was dull and rough. Disappointment spread across her face as her hands unconsciously clasped together.
“Then what are we supposed to do this month?”
The bills would be arriving soon.
If they failed to pay them, they would be placed on a high-risk list. If they defaulted again without catching up on the missed payments, the bank or the relevant companies would initiate an investigation.
If a Special Agent determined they no longer had the ability to continue making payments, everything they had purchased through installment plans, even their house, could be auctioned off to cover their debts.
Worse still, once one company initiated an investigation, every company holding installment agreements with them would do the same.
That was enough to destroy an entire family.
Several such cases had already occurred nearby in recent months. Those neighbors had been forced to sell their homes and move into communities that were poorer, more dangerous, and far less desirable.
Places filled with criminals, working girls, pimps, and all manner of other people.
Hell for some.
Paradise for others.
Anderson carried the three boxes into the house and dropped heavily onto the sofa.
His wife circled the boxes.
“What’s inside?”
Her constant questioning made his head pound.
“Stuff the factory used to pay our wages.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Maybe you should go ask the neighbors if anyone wants to buy them. That’d be more helpful than standing here giving me a headache, don’t you think?”
The two stared at one another for a moment.
Mrs. Anderson did not leave.
Instead, she silently began cleaning.
Cloth in hand, she moved from place to place, wiping surfaces.
In truth, she had already cleaned the entire house before Anderson returned.
For most full-time housewives, after taking care of their husbands and children, there were only a few things left to do.
Watch television.
Chat with neighbors.
Clean the house.
And in a few cases, have affairs.
Whenever Mrs. Anderson’s emotions approached their breaking point, she would start doing housework.
Silently.
As though she had sealed herself away from the rest of the world.
As though nothing outside could reach her.
She would continue until her emotions settled again.
Watching her slip into that familiar state, Anderson’s headache worsened.
He sometimes felt that he was the real victim of emotional coldness.
Just look at that woman.
Acting as though nobody else existed.
The truth was that he didn’t particularly like his wife.
Their marriage, their life together, existed because life required it.
That was the tragedy of ordinary people.
Reality never yielded to ideals.
The wealthy and privileged lived differently.
Only among them could ideals and romance find fertile soil.
Anderson slapped his cheeks a few times and left the house.
He needed some air.
And he needed to figure out what he was going to do next month.
Not long after leaving, a young man approached with a smile and handed him a flyer.
Normally, Anderson would fold it into a paper airplane or crumple it into a ball before tossing it into the nearest trash can.
But he was restless today.
He needed something to distract himself.
So he glanced down at it.
GATNAU — CASH IMMEDIATELY!
The person who can lend you fifty dollars is your friend!
The person who can lend you five hundred dollars is your family!
The only ones who can lend you five thousand dollars or fifty thousand dollars are us!
GATNAU — CASH IMMEDIATELY! RIGHT NOW!
A finance company flyer.
Anderson was about to throw it away.
Then he froze.
Maybe these people could solve his problem.
Not long afterward, carrying the three boxes of appliances on his back, Anderson arrived at the address printed on the flyer.
The office sat on the edge of downtown Sabine City.
Unlike most finance companies that operated on the outskirts of the city, this location gave him an odd sense of confidence.
The place was crowded.
The atmosphere felt different.
In some ways, it felt worse than the years when society had been poorer and less developed.
People had been poor back then.
The economy had been weaker.
But life had felt fuller.
At least back then, he never had to worry about losing his job.
He looked toward a row of agreement desks set up in the open air.
Nearby, piles of collateral rose like small mountains.
He sighed quietly.
“You need to pay attention to market conditions throughout the city and surrounding areas. You can’t be too rigid...”
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