Chapter 12 - Public Repossession
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By 10:00 a.m. the following morning, the reality of the Mercer family collapse went viral in high-society circles.
Without my corporate transfers to cover the emergency line of credit, the dominoes fell with terrifying speed.
At 11:30 a.m., a flatbed tow truck pulled right up the long, winding driveway of Mercer Manor. The driver unhooked his chains in broad daylight while Vivian’s wealthy suburban neighbors watched from their manicured lawns.
Vivian ran out onto the porch in her housecoat, screaming at the driver, but he casually handed her an automated repossession order generated by my lease termination. Her prized $120,000 luxury SUV was hoisted onto the back of the truck and driven away.
An hour later, Vivian attempted to enter the Pine Valley Country Club for her weekly luncheon with her charity board members.
When she tapped her membership card at the front desk, the electronic scanner let out a loud, high-pitched double beep.
CARD DECLINED - ACCOUNT SUSPENDED.
The young receptionist, who had been belittled by Vivian for years, polite smiled and informed her in front of six prominent local socialites that her executive membership had been revoked due to non-payment of monthly dues.
By mid-afternoon, my phone was blowing up with frantic text messages from Daniel.
“Mom had an anxiety attack at the country club.”
“The housekeeper and gardener just packed their bags and walked off the estate because their payroll bounced.”
“Emma, the bank called about the primary mortgage interest! They're threatening a default notice!”
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“Please answer me! We can sign a post-nuptial agreement! Just turn the support accounts back on!”
I didn't reply to a single message. Instead, I forwarded every screenshot directly to my senior divorce attorney, along with the police incident report from the previous night.
