Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Mistress
By 11:00 AM, the grand driveway of the mansion looked less like a luxury estate and more like a roadside evacuation zone.
Two large plastic garbage bags sat on the manicured lawn, containing a few changes of casual clothes for Andrew and Margaret. Brenda stood beside them, shivering slightly in her silk bathrobe and designer sunglasses, refusing to wear anything from the meager pile of non-designer clothing they were allowed to take.
"This is completely humiliating!" Brenda shrieked into her phone, pacing back and forth on the gravel. "Pick up the phone, Brad! No, I don't care that you're busy, my cards are declined and I'm standing on a public sidewalk in Westchester! ... What do you mean you can't let me stay at your apartment? Brad! Brad?!"
The line went dead with a sharp click.
Brenda stared at her phone screen in disbelief, her breath catching in her throat. Within two hours of the freeze order, every wealthy friend, lover, and sugar daddy on her speed dial had blocked her number, terrified of being associated with the sudden, catastrophic collapse of the Vance household.
Andrew sat slumped on a stone bench by the garden, staring blankly at the dirt. His phone had long since stopped ringing; the only notifications were automated texts from utility companies shutting off power, water, and internet access to the estate.
Margaret stood nearby, her face twisted in a mask of bitter, unyielding hatred, muttering curses under her breath about ungrateful women and ruined bloodlines.
A sleek black Escalade pulled up to the security gates.
The rear window rolled down, revealing the calm, composed face of Mariana sitting inside.
Andrew looked up, a final spark of desperate rage flaring in his eyes. He stood up and marched toward the car, slamming his palm against the tinted window.
"Are you happy now?!" Andrew roared, his voice cracking. "You ruined my life! You took everything!"
The window hummed down slowly.
Mariana looked at him not with anger, but with absolute indifference.
"I didn't take anything from you, Andrew," she said softly. "I simply stopped letting you borrow mine."
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The window rolled back up with a silent, mechanical hiss. The Escalade shifted into gear, gliding smoothly past the gates and disappearing down the winding country road.
Andrew stood alone in the dust, the massive iron gates swinging slowly shut behind the car, locking him out of the paradise he never actually built.
