Chapter 4 - The Social Ruin
While Brendan was signing his life away on the 55th floor, Diane Morrison was discovering the brutal reality of her new existence at the elite Oakwood Country Club.
Diane sat on the sun deck, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, sipping a mimosa. She had spent the entire morning trying to suppress the panic from the previous night, convincing herself that Cassidy was just throwing a childish tantrum and that her lawyers would fix it.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Morrison?"
Diane looked up to see the club manager, a man who usually bowed and scraped at her every demand, standing over her with two security officers. His face was stone-cold.
"Yes, Charles? What is it? My mimosa is a bit warm, please fetch me another," she said dismissively.
"I'm afraid I cannot do that, ma'am," Charles said. "Your membership has been immediately revoked. Furthermore, the credit card on file has been declined for your outstanding balance of fourteen thousand dollars."
Diane scoffed loudly, drawing the attention of the other wealthy socialites around her. "Declined? That's impossible. Run it again. Or call my son!"
"We tried, ma'am. Mr. Morrison's accounts are frozen. We have also been informed by Sterling International, the parent company that owns this club, that you are permanently banned from the premises."
The whispers of the surrounding women hit Diane harder than a physical blow. The humiliation was instantaneous. The very people she had spent her life trying to impress were now staring at her like she was trash.
"I demand to speak to the owner!" Diane shrieked, standing up so fast her chair tipped over.
"The owner is the one who gave the order, Mrs. Morrison. Ms. Cassidy Sterling explicitly requested that we escort you off the property. Now, please. Walk quietly, or we will have to carry you."
Across town, Jessica was facing a similar crisis. She was standing at the counter of a high-end designer boutique in Beverly Hills, trying to purchase a limited-edition handbag.
"I'm sorry, miss, but the card has been reported as stolen," the cashier said, holding up Brendan’s platinum card.
"Stolen? That's my boyfriend's card! Run it again!" Jessica whined, tapping her acrylic nails on the glass counter.
"I cannot do that. The bank instructed us to confiscate the card," the cashier said, dropping the plastic into a drawer. "Do you have another form of payment?"
Jessica quickly pulled out her phone, dialing Brendan. It went straight to voicemail. She dialed again. Voicemail. She pulled up her banking app, only to see that the monthly allowance Brendan transferred to her had completely bounced. Her balance was zero.
A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She remembered the men in suits. She remembered Cassidy’s cold, lifeless eyes.
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Jessica didn't love Brendan. She loved the lifestyle he provided. Without the money, he was just an arrogant, middle-aged man with a terrible temper. She grabbed her cheap purse and ran out of the boutique. By the time Brendan finally got a hold of a burner phone to call her, she was already packing her suitcases, booking a one-way ticket back to her hometown on a discount airline.
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