Chapter 5 - The Aspen Crying Game
By Tuesday afternoon, the panic inside the colonial house on Elm Street had reached a fever pitch.
The resort directors in Aspen had officially called Patricia to notify her that the $150,000 vow renewal package had been liquidated.
The luxury suites, the private musicians, and the catered dinners had all been wiped clean from the mountain resort’s schedule.
Brittany sat at the kitchen counter, her phone glued to her ear as she tried to reach my corporate office in Manhattan.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Blackwood," my executive assistant’s voice came through the speaker, entirely professional and unyielding.
"Ms. Alyssa Williams is currently unavailable for personal calls, and all family accounting lines have been permanently audited."
"She can't do this!" Brittany screamed, slamming her hand against the marble island. "We have guests flying in from Chicago next week! The invitations were already sent!"
"The invites are no longer valid, ma'am," the assistant replied smoothly before hanging up the line.
Jamal sat in the living room, his head in his hands, staring at a stack of supplementary credit card statements he had accumulated over the last year.
Without my black card to cover the balance, the banks were already preparing a civil judgment against his personal LLC.
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The man who had laughed at a single mother in a snowstorm was finally looking at the exact version of reality he had predicted for me.
And the reality was that without my silence, he couldn't even afford to keep the lights on in the house he claimed to have saved.
