Chapter 7 - The Eviction of Luxury
The following Monday, a large white moving van pulled up to the curb of the Rittenhouse Square penthouse building. Two burly men in grey uniforms began unloading heavy plastic storage crates onto the sidewalk.
Michael was standing beside his Mercedes, his face drawn, his eyes bloodshot. He had been staying at a cheap airport hotel for three days because his personal credit cards had reached their limits.
"What is this?" Michael demanded, walking up to the building superintendent who was supervising the move.
"Your personal belongings, Mr. Harrison," the superintendent said, handing him a clipboard. "Per the court order issued by the family division this morning, all non-marital personal property has been removed from the penthouse. The lease has been officially reassigned to Ms. Vance’s individual estate."
Amber arrived a moment later in a taxi, her clothes looking rumpled, her usual flawless makeup completely missing. "Michael! The landlord at my apartment just told me the corporate lease has been canceled! They gave me until tonight to clear out!"
Michael looked at her, and for the first time, he didn't see a beautiful, supportive mistress. He saw the anchor that was pulling him down into the depths of financial ruin. "Shut up, Amber. Just shut up. I’m trying to figure this out."
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"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" she screamed, her voice echoing down the wealthy residential street, causing several high-society neighbors to stop and stare. "I lost my job because of you! I'm facing a fraud investigation because of you!"
The two of them stood on the sidewalk, surrounded by plastic crates of clothes and unraveled silk ties, screaming at each other in the bright Philadelphia sun. The illusion of their sophisticated, secret romance had vanished, leaving nothing but the ugly, desperate reality of two thieves who had run out of things to steal.
