PART 2
At 6:00 AM, Julian unlocked the kitchen deadbolt. I had spent the night pretending to sleep on a small rug.
“Get up,” he barked, kicking my foot. “You need to head to the wholesale market right now. Where’s the menu?”
I stood up slowly, keeping my face down, acting completely broken and defeated. “I… I need to go to the high-end specialty grocery store downtown to buy sixty distinct premium ingredients. My cards are locked. Give me your credit card and your car keys, Julian. Otherwise, I can’t bring back the sixty dishes.”
Julian sneered, thoroughly enjoying his perceived total victory. He pulled his black titanium card from his wallet and tossed it onto the counter alongside his BMW key fob. “Be back before eleven, or don’t bother coming back at all.”
“I’ll be back at eleven-thirty,” I whispered obediently. “With everything you asked for.”
The moment I stepped out of the building, I didn’t head to a grocery store. I took a cab straight to Darcy’s high-rise penthouse office in the Loop.
For four hours, Darcy’s litigation team worked with terrifying speed.
We filed the emergency divorce petition, pulled bank records proving my sole financial contribution to the mortgage and condo equity, and secured an emergency court order freezing all joint accounts. Using Julian’s titanium credit card, Darcy authorized an immediate $25,000 retainer fee for her legal firm, followed by ordering two specific, massive custom cardboard boxes from a local industrial supplier.
By 11:30 AM, Darcy’s sleek black Mercedes glided to a halt in front of my condo building. From the fifth-floor balcony, I could hear the raucous noise of dozens of Vance family relatives packed into my living room, eagerly awaiting the massive banquet their obedient daughter-in-law was supposed to serve.
I wasn’t wearing cheap, grease-stained sweatpants anymore. I was clad in a bespoke navy-blue power suit and four-inch Christian Louboutin heels.
Flanking me in the elevator were two off-duty police officers hired for security, a sharp-eyed investigative journalist from a local news outlet, and Darcy, gripping a thick leather folder containing my legal filings.
Behind us, two hired movers hauled out the two massive, heavily duct-taped cardboard boxes onto a hand truck.
It was time to serve the birthday banquet.
