Alessandro sold his penthouse in late July.
Not by choice. The bank foreclosed after he missed three payments. Put it up for auction. Someone bought it for sixty cents on the dollar, and Alessandro walked away with nothing because he owed more than it sold for.
His car went next. Sold to a dealer for a fraction of what it was worth. Used the money to pay down his credit card debt and stave off collections agencies for another month.
Then his furniture. His art collection. His watch collection. Everything his father had left him that wasn't already seized by prosecutors.
By August, Alessandro had liquidated his entire life and still came up short on his debts.
The apartment hunt was humiliating.
Landlords took one look at his application—unemployed, under federal investigation, credit score destroyed—and politely declined. Some weren't even polite. They just said no and closed the door.
After three weeks of rejection, Sienna found a place.
A studio in Washington Heights.
