Chapter 6 - The Fall of Celeste
While Adrian was falling apart, Celeste Monroe was discovering that the high life she had traded her morals for was incredibly fragile.
On Monday afternoon, Celeste walked into the exclusive Chanel boutique on Michigan Avenue, her black Birkin bag clutched tightly in her hand. She had spent the last three days hiding in Adrian's half-packed house, and she needed a retail therapy session to calm her nerves.
She picked out three expensive leather jackets and a pair of silk scarves, walking confidently to the register.
"Put it on the corporate card under Vale Design Group," Celeste told the sales associate, sliding Adrian’s gold company card across the counter.
The associate swiped the card. The machine let out a sharp, metallic beep.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the associate said politely. "The card has been declined."
"Try it again," Celeste snapped, her face flushing. "It’s a corporate account. There must be a system error."
The associate tried again, only for the same declined message to appear on the screen. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's still not going through. Do you have another form of payment?"
"This is ridiculous!" Celeste yelled, attracting the attention of several wealthy shoppers in the boutique. "Do you know who I am? My boyfriend is Adrian Vale, the senior partner—"
"Actually, Ms. Monroe," a voice spoke up from the doorway of the boutique.
Celeste turned around to see my mother, Clara Vance, standing there, dressed in a simple, elegant ivory suit, looking like royalty. Beside her was Licenciado Herrera, our family’s senior corporate counsel.
"Adrian Vale is no longer a partner at Vale & Associates," my mother said, her voice smooth and carrying to every corner of the quiet boutique. "And that corporate card you are trying to use was canceled four days ago when the firm initiated its forensic audit into Adrian’s embezzlement."
The sales associate’s eyes went wide, and she quickly slid the gold card back across the counter, refusing to touch it.
"You..." Celeste hissed, her red-nailed fingers curling into fists. "You're Evelyn's mother. You're the ones who did this to us!"
"We didn't do anything, dear," my mother said, walking closer, her eyes scanning Celeste’s designer dress with an expression of mild amusement. "We simply stopped paying for your lifestyle. The luxury you’ve been enjoying was funded by my daughter's silence. Now that she is speaking, the illusion is over."
Licenciado Herrera stepped forward, pulling a legal envelope from his leather briefcase. He handed it directly to Celeste, who was shaking so hard she nearly dropped her Birkin bag.
"This is a formal summons from the state district court, Ms. Monroe," Herrera said. "The Vance Group is suing you for the recovery of stolen corporate assets, including the white Mercedes-Benz currently parked in Oak Park, and... that black Birkin bag you are holding, which was purchased using a corporate credit line under false pretenses."
Celeste looked at the envelope, then at the sales associate, who was now looking at her with a mixture of disgust and pity.
"You can't take my bag!" Celeste screamed, clutching the black leather against her chest. "Adrian bought this for me! It’s mine!"
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"Adrian bought it with stolen money, Ms. Monroe," my mother said, turning her back on her. "I suggest you hire a very good defense lawyer. Though, on your current budget, I suspect you'll have to settle for a public defender. Have a lovely afternoon."
My mother walked out of the boutique, leaving Celeste standing in the center of the showroom, surrounded by luxury she could no longer afford, crying tears that ruined her expensive makeup.
