Chapter 2 - The Eviction

Within a week, the glittering fantasy Richard had promised Brooke had disintegrated into a sordid, grim reality.

With his bank accounts frozen by court order and criminal charges looming, Richard was unceremoniously kicked out of Brooke’s luxury condo when she couldn’t make the mortgage payment. They ended up in a dingy, off-highway motel on the outskirts of the city. The wallpaper was peeling, the air smelled of stale smoke and damp carpets, and a neon sign flickered annoyingly outside their window.

Brooke sat on the edge of the sagging mattress, glaring at Richard, who was frantically pacing the room while arguing with a cheap defense lawyer on a burner phone. In the corner, Vivian was complaining loudly about the stiff pillows and the draft coming from the window. Chloe, the baby, was crying relentlessly.

"I can't live like this!" Brooke suddenly screamed, throwing a cheap plastic hairbrush at the wall. "You promised me a mansion, Richard! You told me Amanda was a weak, pathetic housewife and you controlled everything! You said we’d be living in her house by Christmas!"

Richard hung up the phone, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. "Brooke, please. I just need some time. My lawyer says if we can just get Amanda to drop the criminal charges, I can counter-sue for alimony—"

"Are you stupid?" Brooke laughed, a shrill, manic sound. "She has you on tape! She has bank records! You’re going to prison, Richard."

"Brooke, respect him," Vivian scolded from the corner. "He is providing for you!"

"Providing?!" Brooke whirled around, her face twisted in disgust. "We are in a roach-infested motel! I didn’t spend three years playing the adoring mistress just to end up poor and changing diapers in a dump. I'm twenty-four years old! I am not going down with a sinking ship."

She stood up, pulled her designer suitcase from the closet, and began tossing her clothes inside.

"What are you doing?" Richard demanded, a note of genuine panic entering his voice. "Where are you going? You can't just leave! What about Chloe?"

Brooke zipped her suitcase shut and put on her sunglasses, even though it was dark outside. She looked at the crying baby in the portable crib, feeling nothing but resentment.

"She’s your daughter, Richard. You figure it out. Vivian’s here, she loves being a grandmother so much, she can raise her." Brooke walked toward the door.