Chapter 8 - The Cost of Pride
Darlene stared at me, her eyes wide with unadulterated terror. For the first time since I met her, there was no arrogance in her expression. No superiority. No haughty tilt of her chin.
She was an aging, broke, ruined woman facing the immediate reality of being handcuffed on her own front porch in front of the local authorities.
"Laurel..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please. Think of Grant."
"Grant didn't drag me across the stones, Darlene," I said, my voice steady and firm. "You did."
"I... I was angry! I was misled by Warren!" she pleaded, taking a pathetic half-step toward me, only for Sergeant Miller to place a firm hand on her shoulder, keeping her back. "I thought you stole the money! Anyone would have been upset!"
"You didn't just get upset," Grant said, stepping between Darlene and me. "You wanted to break her. You’ve wanted to break Laurel since the day I put a ring on her finger because she wouldn't bow to your petty country-club hierarchy. You looked for an excuse to destroy her dignity, and you didn't care if you ruined an innocent man’s life in the process."
Grant turned to Sergeant Miller. "Officer, my mother dragged my wife by the hair and arms across twenty feet of rough flagstone. There are at least fifteen witnesses among the guests who just fled down the drive. I’ll provide a full written statement as a witness."
Darlene let out a high-pitched cry of betrayal. "Grant! I am your MOTHER!"
"And Laurel is my wife," Grant responded without hesitation. "You made your choice a long time ago. Now I’m making mine."
Sergeant Miller nodded slowly. "Mrs. Vance, turn around and place your hands behind your back."
"No! You can't! This is my house!" Darlene shrieked as the cold steel cuffs clicked around her delicate, jeweled wrists. "I am a Vance! You will lose your badge for this! Grant! Stop them!"
The deputies didn't hesitate. They escorted Darlene down the steps, her designer heels dragging through the dust, right behind Warren.
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As the cruisers backed down the drive, their sirens silenced but their lights still flashing in the evening gloom, the grand Vance estate felt emptier than a tomb.
Reid exhaled a long breath, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well. That was certainly more productive than bringing thirty thousand dollars in cash."
