Chapter 6 - The Freezing Cell and the Golden Child’s Collapse
While my children and I spent Thanksgiving night in hospital beds wrapped in warm blankets, Richard and Elaine Vance were experiencing a reality they could never have conceived in their wildest nightmares.
The county holding facility was located forty miles away from their gated suburban enclave.
By midnight, Richard had been stripped of his expensive Italian wool trousers, his gold watch, and his leather loafers. He was forced to squat and cough, handed a scratchy orange jumpsuit that smelled of industrialized detergent and sweat, and shoved into a concrete cell with three other men awaiting arraignment for armed robbery and narcotics trafficking.
"I need to make a call!" Richard bellowed through the heavy steel bars, slamming his palms against the iron. "I am Richard Vance! I have medical conditions! My lawyer will have your badges for this!"
"Sit down and shut up, old man," the guard called back from the end of the corridor without even looking up from his computer screen. "You get your call when intake finishes processing your fingerprints. Which will be sometime around six in the morning. Have a happy Thanksgiving."
Down the hall, in the female holding wing, Elaine was sitting on a cold stainless-steel bench, shivering uncontrollably.
Her silk blouse had been confiscated. Her diamond studs had been bagged and sealed in evidence envelope #4092. The fluorescent lights buzzed incessantly overhead, harsh and unforgiving, highlighting every line of terror carved into her face.
"This is a mistake," she muttered to the brick wall, rocking back and forth. "This is just Rebecca being dramatic. The judge will dismiss this. The judge will see that we are good people."
But thirty miles away, in a luxury high-rise overlooking the downtown skyline, Natalie Vance was discovering that her carefully constructed world was crumbling even faster than her parents'.
Natalie paced the polished white marble floors of her $5,000-a-month apartment, a glass of vodka trembling in her hand. Her phone was ringing constantly.
It was Uncle Warren.
She answered, pressing the phone to her ear. "Uncle Warren? Did you call Arthur? Is he getting Mom and Dad out?"
*"Are you out of your mind, Natalie?!"* Warren’s voice boomed through the speaker, completely stripped of its usual lazy smugness. *"Arthur won’t touch this with a ten-foot pole! The District Attorney’s office leaked the charge sheet to the local press twenty minutes ago! It’s all over Twitter and the local news! 'Prominent Oakridge Businessman Arrested for Brutal Assault on 8-Year-Old Grandson!' Arthur said representing them would be professional suicide!"*
"What about their bail?" Natalie cried, panic clawing at her throat. "They have money! Dad has the offshore accounts, the investments—"
*"All their personal accounts were frozen two hours ago pending a civil injunction filed by Rebecca’s attorney!"* Warren shouted. *"Rebecca filed an emergency petition for an order of protection and an asset freeze to cover medical and psychological damages! The court granted it immediately because of the child abuse charges!"*
Natalie’s knees gave out. She collapsed onto her custom velvet sofa. "Frozen? What do you mean frozen? Warren... my rent is due on the first. That’s in four days! Dad was supposed to give me the cashier’s check tonight!"
*"Find a new place to live, Natalie,"* Warren said coldly. *"Because your father isn't getting out anytime soon. And if the police find out you were part of extorting Rebecca, you'll be wearing orange right beside your mother. Don't call me again. Linda and I are keeping our names out of this."*
The line went dead.
Natalie stared at the black phone screen, hyperventilating.
Then, her email chimed on her laptop sitting on the kitchen island.
She stumbled over to it, her heart pounding against her ribs. The email was from the management office of *The Sovereign*, her luxury building.
**NOTICE OF LEASE TERMINATION AND EVICTION PROCEEDINGS.**
*Dear Ms. Vance,*
*Pursuant to Section 14 of your residential agreement regarding illegal activities and reputation clauses, and in light of the severe criminal charges filed against your primary lease guarantors (Richard and Elaine Vance) along with outstanding delinquency on your monthly balance of $5,240.00, your tenancy is hereby terminated effective immediately. You have 72 hours to vacate the premises.*
"No," Natalie gasped, clawing at her hair. "No, no, no!"
Another notification popped up. This one was from the boutique PR agency where she worked as an "account strategist"—a job my father had bought for her by promising the firm’s owner exclusive commercial contracts.
**URGENT: SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENT.**
*Natalie,*
*In light of the viral news reports regarding the violent domestic incident involving your family and the active criminal investigation involving your name, Vance Media Group has terminated your employment effective immediately. Security has been instructed to box your personal belongings. Do not return to the office.*
In a single night, the fortress of lies, privilege, and cruelty that had protected Natalie Vance her entire life had turned into dust.
She had no job. No apartment. No access to her parents' stolen wealth.
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She was thirty-four years old, drowning in debt, and utterly, irrevocably alone.
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