Chapter 7 - The Gathering of Wolves
Wednesday arrived under a canopy of dark, heavy storm clouds.
By 3:30 PM, the parking lot of Oakridge Valley Country Club was packed to capacity. Range Rovers, Mercedes sedans, and Porsches were lined up outside the grand clubhouse. This wasn't just a routine disciplinary meeting; Julian Hayes had turned it into a premiere social event for his inner circle.
He wanted an audience for my execution.
I arrived precisely at 3:55 PM. Arthur Sterling drove my dark green 1998 Jaguar Vanden Plas right up to the front portico, ignoring the valet.
I stepped out wearing a crisp, charcoal-gray Chanel suit, my hair pinned with silver combs, my back completely straight. In my hands, I carried a single, slim leather portfolio. Arthur walked two paces behind me, carrying two heavy leather briefcases.
The lobby was packed with spectators. Club members lined the hallways, murmuring in hushed tones as I entered. Some looked at me with pity; others with open disdain, whispering behind their manicured fingers.
Kristin stood near the entrance to the Oak Room boardroom. She had abandoned the neck brace today, replacing it with an immaculate black mourning-style dress and pearls, looking every bit the wounded, dignified victim. Julian stood beside her, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, greeting board members with booming laughter and firm handshakes.
When Julian saw me, his smirk widened into a predatory grin.
“Right on time, Eleanor,” Julian said loud enough for the entire foyer to hear. “I appreciate you coming in person to hear the verdict. It saves us the cost of certified mail.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Julian,” I said pleasantly. “A mother should always be present to witness her children learn their first real lesson.”
May you like
Kristin scoffed loudly. “Enjoy your last five minutes inside this building, Eleanor. After today, security won’t even let you drive through the gate.”
“Keep that energy, Kristin,” I said, looking her up and down. “You’ll need it when you have to carry your own bags out to the curb.”
