Chapter 4 - The Rosewood Incident
Three miles away, inside the grand private dining room of Rosewood Country Club, the atmosphere was entirely different.
The room was draped in gold silk, lit by crystal chandeliers, and filled with the quiet, clinking sound of silver polished to a high sheen. Seventy-five guests sat around ten round tables decorated with expensive white orchid centerpieces.
At the head table sat Tiffany, wearing a three-thousand-dollar designer cocktail dress, sipping a glass of imported Pinot Grigio. Beside her sat Kevin, looking pale and uncomfortable in his custom suit, and Kayla, who was staring down at her phone with an expression of sullen boredom.
A tuxedoed waiter approached Tiffany’s table, setting down a small porcelain plate containing a tiny medallion of seared filet mignon garnished with a single sprig of parsley.
Tiffany looked down at the plate, her brow furrowing into sharp, angry lines.
"What is this?" she demanded, her voice loud enough to attract the attention of the surrounding tables.
"The chef's special beef tenderloin, ma'am," the waiter replied politely.
"It's tiny," Tiffany snapped. "And my daughter explicitly asked for a gluten-free, dairy-free berry tart for her main dessert. Where is it?"
"Ma'am, our pastry chef was only given two hours' notice for a party of seventy-five," the waiter explained calmly. "We managed to secure the dining room for you on short notice, but specialized custom dietary menus require forty-eight hours advance notice."
Tiffany slammed her wine glass onto the table, splashing red wine across the white tablecloth. "This is absurd! We are paying ten thousand dollars for this room tonight! My husband is a senior vice president at Apex Logistics!"
Kevin reached out, grabbing her arm. "Tiffany, quiet... people are looking."
"Let them look!" Tiffany snapped, shaking his hand off. "Your mother promised thirty-eight dishes and couldn't even get the ambiance right! I saved this family from looking like poor country bumpkins in a dusty backyard, and this club can't even get my daughter's tart right!"
Kayla didn't look up from her phone. She was scrolling through her social media feed, her thumb flicking rapidly across the glowing screen.
Suddenly, her thumb stopped.
Her eyes widened. Her face drained of color.
"Mom..." Kayla whispered, her voice trembling.
"Not now, Kayla, I'm dealing with this incompetent staff—"
"Mom, look at this," Kayla repeated, her voice rising into an anxious squeak as she shoved her phone screen directly into Tiffany's face.
"What is it?" Tiffany hissed, pulling back to look at the screen.
It was a screenshot of my post.
Beneath the photograph of our abandoned backyard was a blue verification checkmark from a massive viral news aggregator page with twelve million followers.
The caption read: UPDATE: The daughter-in-law who abandoned this sweet grandmother’s 38 homemade dishes has been identified as Tiffany Vance-Miller of Oakridge. Her husband, Kevin Miller (VP at Apex Logistics), walked past his mother’s burnt hands to spend $10,000 at Rosewood Country Club while 60 hungry locals eat for free in his parents' yard.
Beneath the post were eighteen thousand comments.
“Absolute trash human beings.” “Imagine treating your own mother like that after she burnt her hands cooking for you.” “Boycott Apex Logistics if they promote toxic sociopaths like Kevin Miller.” “Rosewood Country Club should throw them out.”
Tiffany’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes darted across the brutal words, her hands beginning to shake violently.
"This... this is absurd!" Tiffany choked out, her face turning bright, angry crimson. "Who posted this?! Who took this picture?!"
She snapped her head toward Kevin.
Kevin was looking at his own phone. His mouth was hanging open, his face pale as paper.
"Kevin?" Tiffany demanded, her voice rising into a panicked shriek. "Call your father! Tell him to take this down right now! He's destroying our reputation!"
Kevin didn't answer her. He was staring at his email inbox.
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A new notification had just arrived from the Chief Executive Officer of Apex Logistics:
Subject: URGENT - Public Relations Crisis / Executive Committee Review. Kevin, step away from your event and call my private line immediately. Our corporate social media accounts are currently being flooded with thousands of boycott threats regarding your actions tonight.
