Chapter 9 - The Eviction from Grace
The cool night air hit Richard and Della like a bucket of ice water as the heavy brass doors of the Broadmoor luxury resort clicked shut behind them.
The valet area was brightly lit, with dozens of chauffeured vehicles idling along the driveway. Several local press photographers who had been covering the arrival of VIPs were still stationed near the fountain. Hearing the commotion, camera lenses swiveled instantly toward the disgraced pair.
*Flash. Flash. Click-click-click.*
“Stop taking pictures!” Della shrieked, shielding her face with her forearm. “Dad, make them stop!”
Richard didn't move. He stood on the curb, his tuxedo suddenly feeling like a straightjacket. The realization of what had just transpired crashed down upon him with catastrophic weight. His reputation was demolished. His primary business contract was in ruins. His younger daughter had been exalted before the most powerful figures in the state, while his favored daughter had revealed herself to be a grotesque, spiteful narcissist.
“Dad!” Della sobbed, grabbing his sleeve. “This is Nora’s fault! Did you see how she humiliated us? She planned this! She wore that uniform just to make me look bad! You have to sue the foundation! You have to—”
“Shut up,” Richard whispered.
Della blinked, stunned into silence. “What?”
“Shut up!” Richard roared, turning on her with a fury that made the nearby valet jump. His face was purple, veins bulging along his temples. “You spoiled, arrogant idiot! I gave you everything! I bought you that dress, I funded your ridiculous lifestyle, I let you run your mouth for years—and tonight, you destroyed us in five minutes!”
“Me?” Della wailed, her voice cracking. “You agreed with me! You told her to take the medal off! You called it tin!”
“Because I was trying to protect you!” Richard yelled back, heedless of the photographers snapping rapid-fire photos of their screaming match on the pavement. “And instead of sitting down, you tried to attack an Army Major in front of the entire Joint Staff! You ruined my contract with Sterling! Do you understand what that means? We are finished!”
The valet pulled up Richard’s black Mercedes sedan, stepping out and holding the door open with a studiously blank expression.
Richard shoved Della toward the passenger side. “Get in the car before I leave you on the curb.”
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Della collapsed into the leather seat, weeping hysterically, the illusion of her supreme perfection shattered beyond repair. As the car sped away into the Colorado darkness, the flashing red taillights seemed to signal the final, ignominious end of their reign.
***
