Chapter 6 - The Fallout Begins
By Monday morning, news of the incident at JFK had spread through our social and business circles like wildfire. A video taken by a bystander showing Vanessa screaming at airport security while my parents argued with officers had been uploaded to TikTok, accumulating over three million views in forty-eight hours.
I was sitting in my executive office at Sterling Global Logistics when my secretary announced that my father was downstairs in the lobby, demanding to see me.
"Send security to escort him up, Sarah," I instructed. "I don't want him creating a scene in the lobby."
A few minutes later, Richard walked into my office. He looked exhausted, his hair unkempt, wearing the same suit from two days ago. Gone was the arrogant country-club patriarch; in his place was a man realization was slowly overtaking.
"Arthur," Richard began, his tone far more subdued than it had been on Saturday. "We need to talk like rational men."
"Take a seat, Richard," I said, intentionally using his first name instead of 'Dad.'
He winced slightly at the formality but sat down across from my desk. "Your mother hasn't stopped crying since Saturday. Vanessa is completely hysterical. All our cards were declined when we tried to take a cab back from the airport. We had to ask my brother to transfer us taxi fare."
"Actions have consequences," I said simply.
"Arthur, please," Richard pleaded, leaning forward. "We made a mistake. We shouldn't have laughed at Clara. Vanessa was out of line—I admit it! But you can't just cut us off completely! My mortgage payment is due next week, and Vanessa’s apartment lease renewal needs your signature as a guarantor!"
"Vanessa is thirty years old," I replied coldly. "If she wants to live in a luxury high-rise apartment, she can pay for it herself with a job. And as for your mortgage, you have a four-bedroom estate in Westchester. Sell it and downsize."
"Sell the house?!" Richard stood up, his face turning red again. "That estate has been in our social circle for decades! If we sell it, everyone will know we're broke!"
"You are broke, Richard," I stated bluntly, looking him dead in the eye. "You have been broke since 1998. The only reason you've lived in that estate, driven modern European cars, and flown first-class for the last decade is because I earned the money and let you spend it. You confused my generosity with weakness."
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Richard stared at me, speechless.
"I am giving you twenty-four hours to remove your belongings from the vehicles registered under my corporate fleet," I continued, pulling out a set of legal documents. "By Friday, my legal team will begin revoking all remaining subsidies. You have abused my wife for the last time."
