Ghost Debt

The air inside Miller & Associates smelled of ozone and synthetic lemon—a sterile, expensive void designed to make problems disappear. Elaine Chen sat on the edge of a chair that felt too soft, her heels digging into the plush carpet. Across from her, Arthur Miller did not look at her. He looked at the legal brief she had pushed across the mahogany surface: a Notice of Intention to Liquidate for the Mott Street property.

Miller’s gaze flickered to the address, and the professional mask he wore—a practiced, calm indifference—cracked. He didn’t reach for the document. Instead, he folded his hands, the skin around his knuckles turning white.

“Ms. Chen,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its corporate polish. “I’ve

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