After Working 4 Jobs to Pay her Husband’s Debts, she Overheard Him Brag About His Personal Slave

After Working 4 Jobs to Pay her Husband’s Debts, she Overheard Him Brag About His Personal Slave

Naomi stood frozen in the hallway of her own home, her hand on the doororknob, her body swaying with exhaustion. It was 11:45 at night. She had been awake since 4:00 that morning. She had worked her hospital shift from 6:00 to 2:00, rushed to her second job at the call center from 3:00 to 7:00, grabbed a protein bar in her car before her evening shift at the restaurant from 7:30 to 10:00, and then driven across town to clean offices until 11:00.

Her feet throbbed in her worn sneakers. Her back achd from bending and lifting. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. But she had made it home. She could shower, maybe eat something, sleep for 4 hours, and do it all again tomorrow. Then she heard his voice. Dererick’s voice came through the bedroom door loud and carefree, the way it used to sound back when they first met.

Back when she thought he was ambitious and hardworking. Back before she knew the truth. “Man, I’m telling you, I got it made,” Derek said. And Naomi could hear other male voices in the background. He had the phone on speaker. She works four jobs for hospital, call center, restaurant, and cleaning offices at night. The other voices laughed.

And you just sit back? One of them asked. Pretty much, Derek said. And Naomi heard him take a sip of something. Probably the expensive whiskey he bought while she drank tap water. She thinks she’s helping us get out of debt together. She thinks we’re a team. She thinks if she just works a little harder, we’ll be okay. That’s cold, man. another voice said.

But he was laughing too. Cold. Nah, that’s smart. Dererick replied. I made some bad bets. Sure. Got in over my head with some credit cards. But why should I suffer? I got myself a personal slave who thinks she’s being a good wife. Naomi’s hand slipped off the doororknob. Her purse fell from her shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud, but the voices inside the room didn’t notice.

“What about that girl, Amber?” someone asked. “She still around?” “Oh, yeah,” Derek said. And Naomi could hear the smile in his voice. Amber doesn’t know about the debt situation. She thinks I’m doing well. I take her to nice places by her nice things. She’s fun, you know, not exhausted and complaining all the time like Naomi.

You’re using Naomi’s money to date Amber. The voice sounded almost impressed. Where else would I get it? Derek laughed. Naomi works so hard. She doesn’t even check the bank statements anymore. She just deposits her checks and keeps going. I skim off the top for my personal expenses. She thinks every penny goes to bills. She’s so tired she doesn’t even think straight anymore.

Naomi backed away from the door. Her legs felt like water. Her chest felt like someone had reached inside and squeezed her heart until it stopped beating. She walked backward down the hallway, her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound. 3 years. 3 years she had been working herself into the ground. Three years since Dererick came to her with tears in his eyes, saying he had made mistakes, that he had gambling debts, that he needed her help just this once, that he would never let it happen again.

She had believed him. She had loved him. She had promised to stand by him. So, she took on a second job, then a third, then a fourth. She wore the same three outfits over and over because she couldn’t afford new clothes. She cut her own hair in the bathroom mirror. She gave up her gym membership, her book club, her Sunday brunches with friends.

She stopped visiting her mother because she couldn’t afford the gas. She ate ramen and peanut butter sandwiches while Dererick ordered takeout and he had been laughing at her. He had been calling her his slave. He had been using her money to date another woman. Naomi found herself in the kitchen staring at the sink full of dishes. Dererick’s dishes.

The dishes she would wash before going to bed because he never did them. The dishes that would be dirty again tomorrow because he would eat breakfast and leave the mess for her. Her hands started to shake. then her arms, then her whole body. She grabbed the edge of the counter to steady herself. The granite was cold under her fingers.

She had picked this granite. When they bought this house 5 years ago, she had spent weeks choosing the perfect color, charcoal gray with silver flex. She had been so happy. She had thought they were building a life together. But Dererick had been building a prison, and she had been too in love, too trusting, too exhausted to see the bars.

Naomi looked around the kitchen. Everything in this house she had paid for. The mortgage, the utilities, the furniture, the food, everything. Dererick’s debts ate every penny she made. And somehow there were always more debts. More bills. More emergencies. Except they weren’t emergencies. They were Amber. Naomi’s phone buzzed in her pocket.

A text from the hospital asking if she could pick up an extra shift tomorrow. They were short staffed. She had already worked six days this week. Her body was screaming for rest, but she had bills to pay. Dererick’s bills. No. The word formed in her mind like a crack of thunder. Oh, she wasn’t going to do this anymore.

She didn’t know what she was going to do yet, but she knew with absolute certainty that she would never work another day to pay for Dererick’s lies. She would never let him use her again. She would never be his slave. Naomi picked up her purse from where it had fallen in the hallway. She walked back to the bedroom door.

Inside, Dererick was still talking, still laughing with his friends about something else now. Sports maybe, or cars. She didn’t care. She didn’t open the door. Instead, she walked to the guest room, the room Dererick had turned into his office. The room she never entered because he said he needed privacy for work.

Except he didn’t work. That was another lie. Naomi opened the door and turned on the light. The room was a mess. Clothes on the floor, empty beer bottles on the desk, papers scattered everywhere. She walked to the desk and started opening drawers. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she knew she would find something.

In the third drawer, under a stack of old magazines, she found a credit card statement. Then another, then another. The amounts made her sick. 15,000 on this one, 20,000 on that one, 8,000 on another. And the charges were recent. Jewelry stores, hotels, restaurants she had never been to. Ember. He was still spending money, still going into debt.

While she worked four jobs, he was making it worse. Naomi took photos of everything with her phone. Every statement, every receipt, every piece of evidence she could find. Her hands were steady now. Her mind was clear. The exhaustion had burned away, replaced by something cold and hard and focused.

She had been asleep for 3 years. Now she was awake, and Dererick was going to regret the day he ever called her his slave. Naomi turned off the light and closed the door behind her. She walked to the guest bathroom, the one Dererick never used, and locked herself inside. She sat on the edge of the tub and opened her phone.

She looked at the photo she had just taken. Then she opened her banking app. The joint checking account showed a balance of $800. Her paycheck from yesterday. Dererick had already transferred 600 to his personal account, the one she didn’t have access to, the one he said he needed for business. She looked at the account history.

Transfers over and over. Her money going in, his transfers going out. Thousands and thousands of dollars. Years of her life stolen one paycheck at a time. Naomi opened her email and started searching. She found the name of the divorce lawyer her friend Brenda had used two years ago. She wrote it down. Then she searched for financial adviserss, then for therapists, then for moving companies.

She was making a list. She was making a plan. and she was going to take her life back. In the bedroom, Dererick was still laughing, but his laughter had an expiration date, and Naomi was going to make sure he knew exactly what it felt like to lose everything. Naomi didn’t sleep that night.

She lay in the guest room bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows move as cars passed outside. Every hour, she heard Dererick stumble to the bathroom, heard the flush, heard him get back into their bed. The bed she had been sleeping in for 8 years, the bed she would never sleep in again. At 4 in the morning, her alarm went off.

Time to get ready for her hospital shift. Naomi sat up and looked at her phone. The email to the divorce lawyer sat in her drafts folder. She had written it at 2:00 in the morning, then deleted it, then written it again. She still hadn’t sent it. Some part of her was afraid that if she sent it, everything would become real.

But it already was real. Dererick had made it real when he called her his slave. Naomi pressed send. Then she got dressed in her scrubs, put her hair in a ponytail, and walked quietly out of the house. Dererick was snoring in the bedroom. He wouldn’t wake up until noon. He never did.

The drive to the hospital took 30 minutes. Naomi had made this drive so many times she could do it in her sleep. She had done it in her sleep, actually. Last month, she had dozed off at a red light and woke up to someone honking behind her. She parked in the employee lot and sat in her car for a moment. Through the windshield, she could see the hospital entrance, the automatic doors opening and closing as people went in and out.

Sick people, worried people, tired people like her. Naomi worked as a medical billing specialist. She sat at a computer for 8 hours processing insurance claims, talking to insurance companies, explaining to patients why their bills were so high. It wasn’t the job she had dreamed of when she went to college.

She had wanted to be a physical therapist. She had been three semesters away from finishing her degree when she met Derek. He had been charming, confident. He told her she was beautiful. He told her she was smart. He told her he wanted to build a life with her. So when he asked her to take a break from school to help him start his business, she said yes.

Just for a year, he said just until the business got off the ground. That was 8 years ago. The business never happened. Derek always had an excuse. The market wasn’t right. He needed more capital. his partner backed out. Someone stole his idea. Naomi stopped asking about it after the second year. By then, she was working full-time to support both of them.

By then, Dererick had convinced her that her dreams could wait, that they needed to be practical, that she was being selfish for wanting to go back to school when they had bills to pay. But they didn’t have bills. Not back then. The bills came later after Dererick started gambling, after he started losing.

after he came home with tears in his eyes and promises on his lips. Naomi got out of the car and walked into the hospital. Her shift started in 10 minutes. She scanned her badge at the employee entrance and took the elevator to the third floor. The billing department was quiet this early. Most people didn’t arrive until 8:00.

But Naomi liked the early shift. It meant she could leave at 2:00 and make it to her second job on time. Her desk was in the corner next to a window that looked out over the parking lot. She had a photo of her and Dererick on her desk. It was from their wedding day. They looked so happy. Dererick in his suit.

Naomi in her white dress. Both of them smiling like they had won the lottery. Naomi picked up the photo and looked at it. She didn’t recognize the woman in the picture. That woman had hope. That woman believed in love. That woman thought marriage meant partnership. She opened her desk drawer and put the photo inside face down.

Then she turned on her computer and got to work. The morning passed in a blur of phone calls and claim forms. At 10:00, her coworker Brenda stopped by with coffee. “You look terrible,” Brenda said, setting the cup on Naomi’s desk. “Worse than usual, I mean.” Naomi tried to smile. “Thanks. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. I’m serious.

” Brenda pulled up a chair and sat down. She was in her 50s, divorced with two grown kids. She had been working at the hospital for 20 years. You’re going to kill yourself with all these jobs. When’s the last time you had a day off? I don’t know. January. Naomi, it’s October. I know what month it is. Brenda leaned forward.

Honey, I’m going to say this because I care about you. That man isn’t worth it. Whatever debt he got you into, it’s not your responsibility to fix. He’s my husband. He’s a grown man who should be taking care of his own problems. Brenda paused. Does he even work? Naomi didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer because the truth was too humiliating. No, Derek didn’t work.

He hadn’t worked in 3 years. He said he was looking for the right opportunity. He said he was too qualified for entry-level positions. He said he was networking, but what he really did was sleep until noon, play video games, go to the gym, and spend Naomi’s money on another woman. I emailed your lawyer, Naomi said quietly.

This morning, Brenda’s eyes went wide. You did. I overheard Derek last night talking to his friends about me. Naomi’s throat tightened. He called me his personal slave. Brenda didn’t say anything. She just reached across the desk and squeezed Naomi’s hand. “I’m done,” Naomi said. “I’m so done. I just need to figure out how to do this without ending up on the street.

” “Patricia is a good lawyer. She helped me get everything I was entitled to. More than I thought I would get.” Brenda squeezed her hand again. You’re going to be okay. Better than okay. I don’t feel okay. You will eventually. Naomi nodded, but she wasn’t sure she believed it. She had been not okay for so long, she couldn’t remember what okay felt like.

The rest of the shift dragged. Every time Naomi looked at the clock, only 5 minutes had passed. She processed claims mechanically, her mind somewhere else, planning, calculating, trying to figure out how she was going to survive the next few months. At 2:00, she clocked out and walked to her car. She had 45 minutes to get across town to the call center.

She stopped at a drive-thru and ordered a value meal, eating it in her car at red lights. The call center job was mind-numbing. She sat in a cubicle with a headset, answering calls from angry customers who wanted to know why their internet wasn’t working or why their bill was so high. Everyone was angry. Everyone yelled.

Naomi spent 4 hours apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. At 7:00, she clocked out and drove to the restaurant. This was the job she hated most. She was a server at a chain restaurant, the kind with too many menu options and appetizers that all tasted the same. She smiled at customers, took orders, brought food, cleaned up spills.

Her feet always hurt after this shift. Tonight was no different. A family of five left her a $3 tip on a $90 bill. A man at table 7 sent his steak back three times. A woman at table 12 asked for 17 different modifications to her salad and then complained that it didn’t taste right. At 10, Naomi’s shift ended. She changed out of her work clothes in the employee bathroom and drove to her fourth job.

The office building was downtown 12 floors of insurance companies and law firms. Naomi had the key to get in. She cleaned three floors every night, vacuuming, emptying trash, wiping down desks and conference tables. The building was empty except for the security guard at the front desk. He waved at her when she came in.

She waved back. Naomi started on the 10th floor and worked her way down. She vacuumed in straight lines the way she always did. She emptied trash cans that were barely full. She wiped down desks where people left family photos and motivational posters. All these people had normal lives. They worked one job.

They went home at 5:00. They had weekends. Naomi couldn’t remember the last time she had a weekend. At 11:30, she finished and drove home. The house was dark except for the glow of the TV in the living room. Dererick had fallen asleep on the couch. An empty pizza box sat on the coffee table. $30 pizza.

Naomi had eaten a $4 value meal for lunch. She walked past him to the guest room. Her phone buzzed. An email from Patricia, the lawyer. I received your message. I have availability tomorrow at 9:00 if you can make it. We should talk as soon as possible. Naomi looked at her schedule. She was supposed to work the hospital shift from 6:00 to 2:00, but she had to do this. She had to start somewhere.

She emailed back, “I’ll be there.” Then she set her alarm for 5:00 and lay down on the guest room bed. She was still in her work clothes. She was too tired to change. In the living room, Dererick snored. Naomi closed her eyes and thought about the woman in the wedding photo. The woman who had believed in happy endings. That woman was gone.

But maybe, just maybe, a stronger woman was taking her place. Naomi woke up at 5:00 and called in sick to the hospital for the first time in 18 months. The guilt sat in her stomach like a rock, but she pushed it down. She had to do this. She had to put herself first for once. She showered quickly and quietly, then dressed in the only professional outfit she owned that still fit, a black blazer and pants that she had bought for a job interview years ago.

She checked herself in the mirror. She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn’t hide, but she looked determined. Dererick was still asleep when she left the house. Patricia’s office was in a modern building near downtown. Naomi sat in the waiting room, her hands folded in her lap, trying not to think about all the things she should be doing instead.

The hospital shift she had abandoned, the bills coming due, the debt that never seemed to shrink. Naomi, a woman in her 40s, stepped into the waiting room. She had short gray hair and kind eyes. I’m Patricia. Come on back. Naomi followed her to a small office with a desk and two chairs. The walls were covered with diplomas and certificates.

There was a photo of Patricia with two teenagers both smiling. So, Patricia said, settling into her chair. Tell me what’s going on. Naomi told her everything. the four jobs, the debt that Dererick had created, the overheard conversation, the mistress, the money he had been stealing. Her voice shook at first but grew steadier as she talked.

Patricia listened without interrupting. She took notes on a legal pad. When Naomi finished, Patricia set down her pen and looked at her directly. First thing, Patricia said, “None of this is your fault. You understand that?” Naomi nodded, but she wasn’t sure she believed it. Second thing, you’re in a better position than you think.

Did Derek tell you these were joint debts? He said we needed to pay them together, that we were a team, but did you sign anything? Credit card applications, loan documents, anything like that? Naomi thought back. No. He said he would handle the paperwork. Patricia smiled. Then legally, those debts are his, not yours. Gambling debts especially.