Chapter 3 - The First Domino
The first domino fell precisely on Wednesday morning, forty-eight hours after our departure.
I was sitting at a corner table in a cozy neighborhood bakery, nursing a warm cup of black coffee while Sophia happily gnawed on a blueberry muffin, when my phone buzzed violently against the wooden tabletop.
The caller ID flashed: Karla.
I let it ring out. The automated voicemail picked up after four rings. Two minutes later, a text message pinged on my screen, written in all-caps panic:
LAURA, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO YOUR BANK ACCOUNT?! The mortgage company just called my office! Your automatic payment bounced, my account is overdrawn, and they are hitting me with a $150 late fee! Fix this RIGHT NOW or I’m calling Mom and Dad to tell them you’re sabotaging me!
I stared at the screen, a faint, cold smile touching my lips. Karla had spent four years believing she was a financial prodigy, never once wondering why her mortgage lender never sent her late notices or collection calls when she blew her entire paycheck on designer shoes and weekend trips to the Hamptons.
I tapped out a calm, polite response:
I am no longer in a financial position to pay your mortgage, Karla. Since you actually work a full-time corporate job, I’m sure you can easily cover the $850 yourself. Best of luck with your budget.
My phone immediately began vibrating again. Call incoming. Then another text. Then a missed call from my mother.
I blocked Karla’s number without a second thought. Then I blocked my mother’s cellular line as well. If they wanted to communicate with me, they could go through Mr. Vance’s office or speak to the process server currently riding up the elevator to their apartment floor.
Sophia looked up from her muffin, her chocolate-stained fingers pointing at my phone. "Mommy, who beep?"
"Nobody important, sweetie," I murmured, stroking her soft hair. "Just a telemarketer."
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By Wednesday evening, Karla’s illusion of luxury was officially in freefall. According to a mutual acquaintance from our extended family who texted me out of sheer neighborhood gossip, Karla had spent the afternoon frantically calling our parents, screaming that her bank was threatening default proceedings on her condo because she had zero savings and couldn't cover the monthly installment. My parents, living on a tight fixed income and convinced they were wealthy property owners, had nothing to give her.
The foundation was cracking. And the earthquake hadn't even hit yet.
