While my parents were covered in wine spilled by my SIL, his family just laughed. I stared at my husband and said, "You have 5 minutes to rectify this, otherwise we'll meet at divorce court."

At 10:30 AM, I arrived at Oakridge Country Club. Arthur Pendelton, the club’s general manager, was already waiting at the iron gates, sweating profusely through his stiff collar despite the crisp morning breeze.

"Ms. Sterling—I mean, Mrs. Vance—I received your urgent email," Arthur stammered, bowing slightly as he escorted me into his private mahogany-paneled office. "I am deeply, profoundly mortified by what transpired last night. If I had been on duty—"

"Save the platitudes, Arthur," I interrupted, setting my briefcase onto his desk. "Did you secure the raw surveillance footage from Dining Room C?"

"Yes, ma'am. Here it is on a secure flash drive. And we have already backed it up to the club’s legal repository." He pushed the drive toward me with trembling hands. "I reviewed it myself this morning. Miss Jessica Vance’s actions were... unmistakably intentional. There was no stumble. She aimed directly for your mother."

"Good," I said, sliding the drive into my bag. "Now, let’s talk about membership status. My family firm holds the primary corporate charter for the Oakridge Board of Trustees, correct?"

"Of course. Your firm’s sponsorship represents our largest corporate endowment."

"Effective immediately, Jessica Vance, Evelyn Vance, and Richard Vance are barred from the premises. Revoke their access passes, cancel their dining privileges, and have security escort them off the property if they attempt to set foot across the perimeter."

Arthur nodded vigorously. "Consider it done. And... your husband, Mark?"

"Mark’s personal club tier is tied to my corporate card. That card has been deactivated. If he wishes to maintain an individual membership, he may apply as an independent candidate—accompanied by our standard $250,000 initiation bond."

Arthur winced. He knew as well as I did that Mark didn't have twenty-five thousand dollars to his name, let alone two hundred and fifty thousand.

Just as I stood up to leave, the heavy oak doors of the administration lobby were flung open. A shrieking voice echoed down the corridor, shrill and hysterical.

"What do you mean my valet card is invalid? Do you have any idea who I am? I am Jessica Vance! Call Arthur right now, you incompetent peasant!"