Chapter 18: The Dismissal
The mighty fall hard, but they fall fast when they run out of cash. Jessica had blown through the meager, heavily restricted trust fund Clara had given her in less than two months.
Clara walked into Le Masque, the city’s most exclusive French restaurant, flanked by her chief of staff. Standing behind the maître d’s podium, dressed in a stiff, uncomfortable uniform, was Jessica. The former bride froze, her face draining of color as she clutched a stack of leather-bound menus. She opened her mouth, perhaps to apologize, perhaps to beg for another handout.
Clara didn’t even break her stride. She looked right through Jessica as if she were a ghost, completely indifferent to her existence. As Clara passed the podium, she calmly pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from her purse and dropped it onto the hostess stand. It was the ultimate insult: not anger, just absolute, icy pity.
