Chapter 5 - The First Domino Falls
Back at the Crestview estate, the grand Christmas dinner had not turned out to be the triumph Susette had envisioned.
After our departure, Uncle Pete had refused to sit down. He had taken his coat from the closet, looked at Garrett with open disgust, and said, “I fought in Korea, Garrett. I’ve seen men do terrible things. But watching you let that woman spit on your brother’s boy over a set of dinner plates is about the lowest thing I’ve witnessed in eighty years.”
Pete had walked out, leaving an uncomfortable, gaping void at the fourteen-person table.
Mom had locked herself in the downstairs powder room, refusing to come out despite Susette’s increasingly frantic knocks. Susette’s socialite friends, sensing the toxic atmosphere, had made polite excuses before the prime rib was even carved, slipping out into the snowy night with muttered apologies.
By ten-thirty, the great mahogany table sat half-cleared, surrounded by empty chairs and stained napkins. Susette was pacing back and forth across the kitchen island, a glass of expensive cabernet in her hand, venting her fury at Garrett.
“Your brother did this on purpose!” she hissed, slamming her glass down so hard the wine splashed over the granite. “He made a scene specifically to embarrass us! He knew Pete would take his side! Now my holiday photos look ridiculous with half the table empty!”
Garrett was sitting on a barstool, staring at his phone, his face pale and clammy.
“Garrett! Are you even listening to me?” Susette screeched. “You need to cut Lucas off. No more family gatherings. No more invites. If he can’t respect the standard of living we maintain in this house, he doesn't belong in our circle!”
“Susette… shut up,” Garrett muttered.
Susette froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said shut up!” Garrett yelled, slamming his phone onto the counter. The screen was illuminated with three automated text alerts from his corporate bank, followed by a formal notification from Vanguard Crest Holdings.
“What is that?” Susette demanded, marching over and snatching the phone before Garrett could pull it back. “Why are your cards declining? We have the annual country club dues scheduled for midnight! Garrett, why did the company credit card bounce when the wine merchant charged it?”
Garrett buried his face in his trembling hands. “Because it’s over, Susette. The game is over.”
“What game? What are you talking about?”
“The house,” Garrett whispered, his voice cracking. “The brokerage. The cars. The lifestyle. It was never mine.”
Susette let out a sharp, mocking laugh, though her knuckles tightened on the phone. “What kind of sick joke is this? You’re the senior partner! You founded the firm!”
“Lucas founded the firm!” Garrett shouted, standing up and knocking the barstool backward with a deafening crash. “Lucas bought this house! Lucas pays the property taxes! Lucas approved the line of credit that paid for your kitchen renovation, your clothes, and that damn dinner tonight! I own nothing, Susette! We own *nothing*!”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
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Susette stared at her husband as if he had just transformed into a stranger. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her makeup looking like a grotesque mask. “You… you’re lying. Lucas is a nobody. He drives a five-year-old Ford truck! He dresses like a handyman!”
“Because he doesn't care about looking rich, Susette!” Garrett sobbed, completely breaking down. “He *is* rich! And you just told his son he didn't belong in his own father’s house!”
