Chapter 4 - The Financial Collapse
The fallout over the next two weeks was catastrophic for the Pembrokes.
Once the Department of Defense publicly announced the ethical audit of Pembroke Industries, the blood was in the water. Corporate partners, terrified of federal guilt-by-association, began pulling their contracts. The company's stock, which had been artificially inflated by the rumors of the upcoming military deal, plummeted by sixty percent in a matter of days.
I sat in my secure office at the base, nursing June during my lunch break. My phone buzzed with an incoming call from Natalie, my divorce attorney.
"Good news, Nora," Natalie said. "The judge granted the emergency protective order. Given the financial panic of the Pembroke family and Margaret’s history of erratic behavior toward the baby, Wesley is restricted to supervised visitation."
"Has he signed the divorce papers?" I asked.
"Not yet," Natalie sighed. "His lawyer is trying to claim he is entitled to half of your military pension and assets. But considering Pembroke Industries is currently circling the drain and you bought the house prior to the marriage, it's a weak play."
I looked at the framed photo of my father on my desk. Never waste your dignity proving yourself to people determined to misunderstand you.
"Let him try," I said. "He’s going to need the money to pay his father's legal fees."
Meanwhile, the social exile in Myers Park had begun. Margaret Pembroke’s greatest weapon had always been her status. She reigned over the local country club, dictated the charity gala guest lists, and used her wealth to bully anyone she deemed inferior.
But wealth in their world was conditional.
When the video I had recorded—the one showing Margaret presenting a pet collar to a newborn baby—anonymously leaked to the Charlotte society pages, the backlash was nuclear.
Other wealthy families didn't necessarily care about morality, but they cared deeply about public relations. Being associated with a woman who psychologically abused an infant and subsequently cost her husband a billion-dollar defense contract was social suicide.
Margaret was quietly asked to step down from the board of the local hospital charity. Then, her membership at the Myers Park Country Club was suspended.
She tried to show up at a Sunday brunch service, pretending everything was fine, only to be turned away at the door by the maître d'.
I found all this out because Margaret, in a moment of sheer delusion, drove to my house and pounded on my front door on a Tuesday evening.
When I opened it, holding June on my hip, Margaret looked entirely unhinged. Her hair was messy, her designer clothes looked slept in, and her eyes were wild.
"You ruined me!" she screamed, trying to push her way inside. "You leaked that video! My friends won't speak to me! Arthur is filing for bankruptcy! Are you happy now, you vindictive bitch?!"
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I didn't flinch. I just looked at the black SUV parked across the street, where my father’s assigned security detail was already stepping out of the vehicle.
"I didn't ruin you, Margaret," I said calmly. "I just handed you a mirror. It’s not my fault you hate the reflection."
