The next morning, Richard decided to test my resolve. He put on his tailored suit, went down to his building’s luxury garage, and tried to drive “his” SUV to work.
The doorman, George, a man I had tipped very well for years, stopped him at the gate.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker,” George said politely. “I have direct orders from the owner, Mrs. Denise Parker. This vehicle is unauthorized to leave the premises. If you attempt to drive it, I am required to call the police.”
Richard threw a violent tantrum in the garage, ripping his briefcase out of the car and screaming obscenities, forced to hail a yellow cab in front of all his wealthy neighbors. Public humiliation. Checkmate.
That afternoon, Susan tried to order expensive sushi delivery. Her card declined. Richard’s card declined. They were entirely, utterly broke.
By 4:00 PM, they were desperate enough to do the one thing I knew they would. They came to my building.
I was walking back from my computer class, laptop bag over my shoulder, when I saw them standing by my building’s entrance. They looked like shipwreck survivors. Susan’s hair was messy, her designer sunglasses failing to hide her panicked eyes. Richard looked feral.
“Mom!” Richard shouted, storming toward me.
My doorman, Patrick, immediately stepped forward, but I raised a hand, stopping him.
“Richard. Susan. What a surprise,” I said coldly, standing my ground.
“Open the door. We need to talk,” Richard demanded, reaching for my arm.
I stepped back, out of his reach. “I have nothing to say to you. And you are not allowed inside my home.”
“Mrs. Denise, please!” Susan cried, her voice trembling with fake emotion. “Don’t be cruel! We were wrong! It was the receptionist’s mistake!”
“Susan, stop,” I interrupted, my voice laced with disgust. “That performance is pathetic. You stood there, watched my son turn me away, and you smiled. You thought you won. You got a $100,000 wedding and got rid of the bothersome old woman all in one day. Quite a bargain.”
Susan went pale, her mouth snapping shut.
