Chapter 3 - BAIL AND BITTERNESS
The County Women’s Detention Center smelled of commercial floor bleach and stale coffee.
Beverly Walsh sat on a hard plastic chair in the holding visitation room, her pink silk robe replaced by a stiff, oversized yellow inmate jumpsuit. Her hair was disheveled, her makeup smeared, and her eyes flashed with unbridled fury as she stared through the scratched plexiglass window at her son.
Wesley sat on the other side, looking exhausted, holding a black binder containing his mother's bail documents.
"Five thousand dollars?!" Beverly shrieked into the metal intercom receiver. "Why haven't you posted the bail yet, Wesley?! I’ve been sitting in this filthy room with common criminals for nine hours! Call our family lawyer immediately!"
Wesley put his head in his hands, his voice muffled over the intercom. "Mom... I don't have five thousand dollars in my checking account right now."
Beverly froze, blinking in disbelief. "What do you mean you don't have five thousand dollars?! You’re a senior corporate manager! You make six figures! Transfer the money from your housing fund!"
"There is no housing fund, Mom!" Wesley finally snapped, slamming his fist against the counter, causing the guard near the door to give him a warning look.
Wesley leaned close to the microphone, his voice trembling with humiliated rage. "There is no housing fund! There are no investments! The house in Oakridge? Serena bought it! The Tesla in the driveway? Serena bought it! The eight hundred dollars a month you spent on your credit card while staying with us? Serena paid the bill every single month!"
Beverly’s face went completely blank. Her lips parted, but no sound came out for several agonizing seconds.
"What... what are you saying?" she whispered.
"I’m saying Serena makes over fifty thousand dollars a month!" Wesley shouted through the receiver. "She runs her own brand consultancy firm! She paid off my debts, she covered every mortgage payment, she bought every piece of furniture you sat on while you called her a useless housewife!"
Beverly sat back as if she had been slapped across the face with a heavy iron bar. The reality of her arrogance began to piece together like a nightmare.
All those months she had strutted around the six-bedroom mansion, drinking expensive wine, criticizing the decor, and giving Serena condescending advice on how to 'keep a successful man'... she had been living off the charity of the woman she held in total contempt.
"She... she was rich?" Beverly stammered, her voice stripped of all its usual majesty.
"She was wealthy, independent, and completely loyal to me," Wesley said bitterly, tears streaming down his face. "And because you couldn't keep your mouth shut, and because I was too weak to tell you the truth, she threw us both out. I’m living out of my car, Mom. She changed the locks. She served me with divorce papers, and she’s pressing felony charges against you that carry up to three years in state prison."
Beverly gripped the intercom handle until her knuckles turned white. The humiliation was worse than the cold holding cell.
"She can't do this!" Beverly hissed, her shock instantly twisting back into desperate malice. "We’ll counter-sue! We’ll take half her money in the divorce! You’re her husband, Wesley! You’re entitled to half of everything she earned while you were married!"
"Victoria Vance is her lead divorce attorney, Mom," Wesley said quietly, dropping his head. "She’s the most ruthless family law attorney in the state. She already filed a pre-nuptial enforcement petition this morning. I signed a strict pre-nup three years ago before we moved into the house. I get nothing. Absolutely nothing."
Beverly sank back into her chair, the yellow jumpsuit hanging loosely over her frame. For the first time in her life, the illusion of her family’s superiority had been shattered into worthless dust.
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"Get me out of here, Wesley," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "Please... just get me out."
"I have to take out a high-interest payday loan to post your bail, Mom," Wesley said, standing up from his chair without looking at her. "And when you get out... we have nowhere to go."
