Chapter 6 - The Desperate Flight Home
The Miami airport terminal felt like a humid,
neon-lit purgatory for Luca Vance.
Gone were the days of priority boarding,
the chilled glasses of Bollinger,
and the hushed tones of the first-class lounge.
Instead,
he stood in a line that snaked around the check-in kiosks,
sweating through his designer linen shirt,
clutching a economy-class ticket he had been forced to beg for.
He had spent the last four hours on the phone,
calling every "friend" he had ever treated to a bottle of wine or a round of golf.
Most didn't answer.
Those who did had suddenly found themselves "in meetings" or "travelling abroad" the moment he mentioned a loan.
Finally,
a college acquaintance had agreed to venmo him enough for three one-way tickets on a budget airline,
but only under the condition that Luca pay him back double by the end of the month.
“I can’t believe we’re flying on this...
this winged bus,”
Wendy hissed,
fanning herself with a discarded boarding pass.
Her hair,
usually a perfect silver coif,
was beginning to frizz in the Florida humidity.
“My back will be ruined,
Luca.
And Stephanie has already had a panic attack twice near the baggage claim.”
Stephanie sat on a pile of their remaining suitcases,
her eyes red-rimmed and her phone dead.
She looked like a fallen socialite,
a princess whose carriage had turned back into a rotting pumpkin.
“Shut up,
Ma,”
Luca snapped,
his voice low and dangerous.
“Just shut up and get on the plane.
We have to get to Boulder.
Once we’re in the house,
I can call my own lawyer.
I’ll file an injunction.
I’ll claim Jessi is mentally unstable from the birth.”
He gripped the handle of his suitcase,
his knuckles white.
In his mind,
the house was his fortress.
If he could just get past the gates,
he could dig in.
He could use the baby as a bargaining chip.
He could claim he was protecting Lily from a mother who was "unstable" enough to sell the family home.
The flight was a nightmare of cramped seats and the smell of stale pretzels.
Luca sat between a crying toddler and a man who snored like a chainsaw,
staring at the back of the seat in front of him.
Every minute that passed felt like an eternity.
He kept checking his watch,
calculating the time.
He thought about the mansion’s master bedroom,
the walk-in closet filled with his bespoke suits,
the wine cellar with bottles worth more than this entire airplane.
He didn't think about Jessi.
He didn't think about the pain she must have been in,
standing in the rain with a fresh surgical wound.
He only thought about the loss of his status.
He was a man who defined himself by the height of his ceilings and the brand of his car.
Without them,
he was nothing.
And he knew it.
When the plane finally touched down in Denver,
the air was cold and crisp,
a sharp contrast to the tropical heat of Miami.
They took a shuttle to the long-term parking,
forgetting for a moment that their cars were no longer there.
Luca stood in the middle of the parking lot,
searching for the sleek silhouette of his Range Rover.
It wasn't there.
The spot was empty,
save for a few discarded gum wrappers.
“Where is it?”
Wendy asked,
her voice trembling.
“Luca,
where is the car?”
“She took it,”
Luca whispered,
the reality of his situation finally starting to settle into his bones like a chill.
“She actually took the car.”
He had to call a ride-share,
watching the balance on his last remaining prepaid card dwindle to nearly zero.
The drive to Boulder was silent.
The mountains loomed in the distance,
dark and indifferent to his plight.
As they turned onto Redwood Crest Drive,
Luca felt a surge of hope.
The streetlights were glowing,
and the neighborhood looked as peaceful as ever.
“See?”
he told his mother,
pointing toward the estate.
“The house is still there.
She’s probably inside,
waiting for us to crawl back.
She’s just trying to scare us.”
But as the car pulled up to the grand iron gates,
Luca’s heart stopped.
The gates were closed.
And hanging from the center of the wrought iron was a sign he hadn't expected to see.
A sign that changed everything.
SOLD.
In bold,
black letters.
And underneath,
the name of a corporate real estate firm he didn't recognize.
“No,”
Luca breathed,
stumbling out of the car.
“No,
no,
no!”
He ran to the keypad,
his fingers flying over the buttons,
entering the code he had set just days ago.
Access Denied.
He tried again.
Access Denied.
He began to beat his fists against the iron bars,
a primal,
ugly sound that echoed through the quiet street.
“Jessi!”
he screamed.
“Jessi,
open this gate!
You can’t do this!
This is my house!”
The lights inside the mansion remained dim.
There was no movement.
No Jessi.
No baby.
Just the cold,
imposing presence of a building that no longer belonged to him.
Suddenly,
a black security SUV pulled up on the other side of the gate.
A man in a tactical vest stepped out,
a flashlight beam cutting through the darkness to blind Luca.
“Step away from the gate,
sir,”
the guard commanded.
“I live here!”
Luca yelled,
shielding his eyes.
“I’m Luca Vance!
Open this gate immediately!”
“Mr. Vance,”
the guard said,
his voice devoid of emotion.
“This property was sold and vacated as of ten o'clock this morning.
The new owners have a strict no-trespassing policy.
If you do not leave the premises immediately,
the police will be called.”
“Sold?”
Wendy shrieked from the car.
“How can it be sold?
My jewelry is in there!
My furs!”
“Everything left on site has been moved to a secure storage facility,”
the guard replied.
“You should have received an email with the address and the access code.”
Luca slumped against the bars,
the cold metal pressing against his forehead.
He felt the world tilting on its axis.
He had played his hand,
thinking he held all the aces.
But Jessi hadn't just beaten him at the game.
She had flipped the table,
May you like
set the room on fire,
and walked away with the prize.
