Chapter 6 - The Broken Alliance
By Friday morning, the fallout from the scene at the country club had spread through Greenwich like wildfire.
The rumors of the emergency room report and the driveway incident had completely ruined whatever social standing Richard and Vivian had left. Local vendors began demanding immediate cash payment upfront for estate services, and Harold Vance—their high-priced Stamford attorney—officially withdrew his legal representation after reviewing the driveway security video.
Inside a dingy two-room rental apartment near the industrial district of Stamford, Derek sat on a threadbare sofa, staring at three formal court summonses lying on the coffee table.
The front door slammed open.
Richard walked in, his clothes unpressed, his eyes hollow and heavy with dark circles. Behind him came Vivian, carrying two plastic grocery bags containing cheap canned goods.
“Where have you been?” Derek barked, standing up from the sofa. “The landlord just posted a final notice on my Stamford office! My equipment is being locked in tomorrow morning!”
Richard dropped into an old wooden chair near the small kitchen table, staring blankly at the wall.
“It’s over, Derek,” Richard said quietly, his voice completely flat.
“What do you mean it’s over?” Derek screamed, marching over to his father. “Did you talk to the lawyers? Did you file the injunction against Julian?”
“Harold withdrew from the case,” Vivian wept, sitting down on the edge of a plastic-covered mattress. “He saw the video, Derek. He said if we take this to court, Julian’s lawyer will release the footage to the media. We’ll be ruined. We’ll lose everything.”
“We already lost everything!” Derek yelled, throwing his arms in the air. “I don't have a car! I don't have an office! My bank accounts are frozen! We need to force Julian to settle! He’s a partner at Apex Capital! He can’t afford a public scandal!”
Richard looked up at his youngest son, his eyes filled with a sudden, bitter disgust.
“He doesn't care about the scandal anymore, Derek,” Richard said softly. “Didn't you hear him at the club? He doesn't care about our name. He doesn't care about our reputation. He destroyed us in front of sixty people and didn't even raise his voice.”
“Because you let him!” Derek roared. “You sat there and let him talk about Clara’s hand! You should have denied it! You should have called him a liar!”
“It wasn't a lie!” Richard snapped, standing up suddenly and shoving Derek back against the wall. “You slammed the door on her hand, you selfish idiot! You were worried about a damn reservation, and now your mother and I are being kicked out of our home in three weeks!”
Derek shoved his father back, his face contorted with rage. “Don't put this on me! You were the one who told her to walk home! Mom was the one who complained about the paint! You both loved that Range Rover more than anything else because it made people think we were rich!”
“Stop it! Both of you, stop it!” Vivian shrieked, clutching her head in her hands as she sobbed on the bed. “Look at us! We are turning on each other like animals!”
Derek straightened his jacket, breathing heavily as he looked at his parents with cold contempt.
“I’m leaving,” Derek said, grabbing his jacket from the couch.
“Where are you going?” Vivian whimpered.
“To Manhattan,” Derek said, his eyes narrowing. “Julian wants a war? I’m going to his office. I’m going to sit in his lobby until he gives me what I’m owed.”
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“He won't give you a dime, Derek,” Richard said, sitting back down in his chair and staring at the floor. “He’s done with us.”
“We’ll see about that,” Derek growled, slamming the apartment door shut as he rushed out into the rain.
