their drinks, grabbing their coats, and quietly slinking out the front door one by one, desperate to avoid being associated with the scandal now unfolding in real time in front of them.
“Natalie, please,” Kloe cried out, falling to her knees in tears, the same stone patio floor her own mother had been scrubbing just hours earlier now catching her sister’s performance of desperation. “We’re family. You can’t leave us on the street with nowhere to go.”
“You called our mother the maid, and made her scrub floors while you slept in her master bedroom,” I said, my voice stone cold, every word deliberate. “You ceased being my family the moment you treated her like a servant.”
The security guards stepped in, supervising Julian and Kloe as they were given exactly twenty minutes to pack two suitcases each with basic personal clothing. Everything else, their designer bags bought with stolen
