Chapter 86: Don

After leaving Gold Diamond Law Firm, Joni looked at the sunlit city, but felt his world had suddenly plunged into darkness.

He was devastated.

After paying two hundred and sixty dollars, he had less than one hundred and fifty dollars in cash left, and all his bank funds were frozen.

Worse, Mr. Gus told him that even if the case reached the most ideal outcome they could hope for—where the judge ruled Joni had unintentionally underreported due to ignorance of local tax laws—he would still need to pay a massive fine.

This isn’t personal; everyone who ends up in court over this kind of thing faces the same situation.

Moreover, his bakery has operated for many years, and the tax bureau might penalize him for underreporting over a ten- to twenty-year period.

He must prepare at least three thousand dollars to face what’s coming.

He asked Mr. Gus what would happen if he couldn’t pay the taxes; Mr. Gus gently told him he would suffer misfortune and lose his freedom.

The sunlight couldn’t dispel the gloom in his heart or warm his icy body; all he wanted now was to run, but he couldn’t escape.

“We have no money,” said his fat daughter softly, her hands empty.

Every month Joni gave her money, and she spent it all; in fact, she sometimes stole small amounts from the takings, just enough that Joni never noticed.

Stealing two or three dollars a day was one reason her boyfriend stayed with her.

Though she smelled bad and was fat, at least she had money and was willing to spend it on him.

But now they weren’t facing a gap of a few dollars or even dozens—it was a gap of thousands, and this was still the best-case scenario.

Joni stared at the distant coast and horizon, his lips moved, and finally he said what he didn’t want to say: “We have a house.”

His daughter wanted to say something, but held her tongue; Joni had always said the house would be hers, and she could live in it after marriage.

But now, that promise seemed unfulfillable.

Though Joni treated others poorly, he was decent to his daughter; he turned to look at his dejected daughter and even offered comfort: “Think positive—at least our bakery still brings in steady monthly income, and the new officer collects low fees.”

“I’ll talk to those gangs next week; maybe they’ll lower our fees.”

“And we can take out a loan.”

His daughter forced a smile: “Yes, we can take a loan—we’ll pay it back later, and the house will still be ours.”

They returned to the bakery; her boyfriend was vigorously kneading dough, sweat falling into the flour, adding a peculiar flavor.

That evening, the intern lawyer recommended by Mr. Gus arrived; after a brief talk, they gathered some information and left.

Before leaving, he advised Joni to prepare for paying fines, since the tax bureau would certainly demand back taxes and penalties, and the court would support them.

If he couldn’t pay promptly, they’d charge him interest—and the interest would be high!

Joni asked what would happen if he had no money; the young lawyer hadn’t learned subtlety yet and bluntly told them the bank would auction off all his valuable assets and then send him to prison.

The next morning, after a night of thought, Joni quickly rallied: as long as the bakery still stood, he had a chance to rise again.

In the morning, he went to Boto Bank and stood before the loan manager.

The manager, an old man, put on his glasses, glanced at the form Joni filled out with the teller’s help, and made two phone calls.

Finally, he raised an eyebrow at the form: “Mr. Joni, if you use this house as collateral, I can offer you one thousand five hundred dollars.”

Joni’s eyes widened—he’d spent the whole night psyching himself up for this, and now the man told him the house was worth only one thousand five hundred?

His expression was vivid, his eyebrows raised: “Are you sure you didn’t mean three thousand five hundred or two thousand five hundred?”

The manager shook his head: “This is an old house. I just checked with our partners—the latest resale price in this area was only three thousand dollars.”

“If you default and we have to liquidate the house, we’ll incur costs—staff, logistics, auction fees—and I estimate its auction price won’t exceed two thousand five hundred, possibly less.”

“After deducting these expenses, we can recover at most two thousand two hundred dollars.”

Joni was furious hearing this bastard’s nonsense: “But you’re only giving me one thousand five hundred!”—he nearly cursed aloud.

The manager remained expressionless: “The rest is reserved for interest and safety margins—we must first ensure our interests aren’t compromised.”

“Mr. Joni, we’re not philanthropists. If you want philanthropists, go to charities.”

“This is a bank. We lend you one thousand five hundred expecting a return—not to do good deeds.”

He stacked the form and documents into a file folder: “You can go home and think it over. Maybe another bank or a street finance company would be a better choice.”

He was clearly telling Joni to leave. Joni snatched the paperwork, ready to curse—but saw the guard outside the window, and swallowed the curse.

“This damn vampire place—I’m never coming back.”

The manager merely smirked, signaling him to go.

Then he went to Baihui Bank and Jincheng Bank.

The loan manager at Baihui Bank offered one thousand seven hundred fifty dollars—two hundred fifty more, with nearly the same reasoning.

He still couldn’t accept it, so he went to Jincheng Bank.

Jincheng Development Bank was founded locally by several wealthy men under state government promotion; many trusted it and deposited their money there.

Its savings interest rate was three percent higher than other banks, and large deposits could earn five percent more—very attractive to depositors.

But some considered it unsafe, so Jincheng Bank remained stuck locally, unable to expand outward.

Still, its business within Jincheng City alone was enough to keep it thriving.

The loan manager there reviewed his documents and offered only one thousand eight hundred dollars, telling him it was the highest offer in the entire city—no one would pay more.

“Mr. Joni, understand this: if you default, and we liquidate your house to recover our expected interest, it must sell for over two thousand four hundred dollars.”

“It seems there’s a six-hundred-dollar gap from the recent sale price, but you must know—this neighborhood had only one sale in the past three months.”

“If we want to recover funds quickly, we’d have to list it below three thousand; those interested wouldn’t pay three thousand.”

“Because if they had that kind of money and were willing to spend it, they’d have more, better, larger, and more centrally located options.”

“So don’t think I’m mocking or extorting you—I’m just telling you why it’s worth this price.”

“Also, if you’re lucky and the auction brings more, we’ll deposit the surplus into your account—you have no risk of extra loss.”

“Think positively: what if someone’s willing to pay five thousand for your house?”

It wasn’t funny—at least Joni couldn’t laugh: “So one thousand eight hundred is the highest price?”

The manager nodded, just like the Boto manager, and began packing his desk into a file folder: “I said no one will pay more—unless it’s a finance company.”

“But you know if you hand the house to them, you might lose more than just a house.”

On the way back, his mood sank further, and another thought emerged: why not just sell the house outright?

He went to local real estate agencies and mentioned his intention to sell.

The agency sent someone to inspect the house, front and back: “Mr. Joni, your house looks… acceptable. How much do you want to sell it for?”

Joni felt a flicker of hope: “How much do you think it could sell for?”

The agency manager thought a moment: “If you’re not in a hurry, two thousand six hundred is a reasonable price.”

“I noticed some flooring and wall plaster need replacing, and the exterior and roof need maintenance—you must offer a competitive price.”

Joni had prepared himself, but still couldn’t accept it: “I heard houses here sell for three thousand five hundred!”

The manager smiled: “That’s a new house with high-end renovation.”

He fell silent, then asked: “What if I need to sell quickly?”

“I can list it at two thousand four and see…”

Joni felt his blood pressure spike, even dizzy—he closed his eyes briefly, then spoke louder: “You just sold a house for three thousand!”

The manager kept his smug, half-smile: “If you spend five hundred to renovate your house, I guarantee you’ll sell it for three thousand.”

Joni returned home with the file folder, restless with worry; as he tossed and turned, a small card slipped out from somewhere—

Wanli Financial Consulting: We Fulfill All Your Needs!