Chapter 8 - The Price of the Frame
The transition of Vanessa Cole’s life from luxury real-estate broker to an administrative clerk at a regional trucking company in Danville took less than ninety days.
She sat at a small plastic desk under a buzzing fluorescent light, her designer heels replaced by cheap loafers, her fingers stained with black ink from the shipping manifests. Her real estate license had been suspended for five years by the state board, her bank accounts had been depleted by legal fees, and she was currently living in a studio apartment above a dry cleaner.
Her phone buzzed on the desk. It was an alert from an entertainment news site: DAWSON FOUNDATION ACQUIRES THREE THOUSAND ACRES OF WETLAND FOR STATE PRESERVATION.
Vanessa looked at the picture accompanying the article. Grace Dawson was standing beside the Governor of Virginia, wearing an ordinary canvas jacket and mud boots, her hands in her pockets, her smile radiant and unforced. She looked younger, lighter, and completely at peace.
"Vanessa!" a loud voice barked from the back office. It was her supervisor, a burly man named Gary who smelled of diesel fuel and stale coffee. "Where are the weight logs for the northern line? The drivers have been waiting twenty minutes! If we get hit with another DOT fine because your paperwork is behind, I’m docking your pay!"
"I’m printing them now, Gary," Vanessa said, her voice trembling as she clicked the mouse.
May you like
She looked back at the image of Grace on her screen. Six months ago, she had stood in the marble foyer of Hawthorne Ridge, her hand on Daniel’s arm, laughing as Grace’s clothes were ruined in the rain. She had thought she was winning the ultimate prize. She had thought she was deleting a non-entity from a story of wealth and power.
Now, she understood that she had never been a character in the story at all; she had been a tool used by a broken family to complete their own destruction. And the woman they had thrown out had been the one holding the pen the entire time.
