The wine flew across the table and soaked my mother before anyone around us even had time to understand what was happening

By noon, the video was the number one trending topic across social media in the United States.

The Sun-Times editor hadn't just captured the wine throw; he had captured the absolute, crystal-clear audio of Wendy’s arrogant monologue. Her sharp, condescending voice calling me a "poor waitress" and claiming my mother "had no idea how to behave in a place like this" was being remixed, shared, and discussed by millions of people across the country.

Working-class people, hospitality workers, service industry personnel, and ordinary citizens were united in absolute fury against Wendy Vance. The hashtag #JusticeForPhoebe was trending nationally.

I sat in my apartment living room with my mother, who was sitting under a cozy fleece blanket, sipping tea. She looked vastly better than she had the night before, though her phone was blowing up with messages from old friends and relatives checking in on her.

"I never wanted any of this attention, Clara," my mother admitted, staring at the television screen where a commentary panel was dissecting Wendy’s body language. "I just wanted a quiet dinner to discuss wedding flowers."

"I know, Mom," I said, squeezing her hand softly. "But Wendy made her bed. Now she has to lie in it."

The front door unlocked, and Luca stepped inside carrying a box of takeout food from a quiet deli down the street. He looked exhausted, but there was a calm certainty in his movement that hadn't been there two days ago.

"How are things outside?" I asked him.

"Crazy," Luca replied, setting the food on the kitchen island. "There are three news vans parked outside my father's corporate building on Wacker Drive. Two of Vance Capital's major institutional clients have already issued statements saying they are reviewing their contracts due to 'brand alignment issues.'"

"What about your mother?" my mom asked quietly, her gentle nature unable to completely detach from empathy, even for the woman who had humiliated her.

"She's locked inside the Gold Coast estate," Luca said, taking a chair beside us. "Her publicist resigned an hour ago after Wendy screamed at her for failing to get the video taken down from TikTok. And... my father was asked to step down from the Art Institute board prep committee this morning."

I looked at Luca. "Has he called you?"

"Sixteen times," Luca admitted, pulling out his phone and showing me the wall of missed calls and frantic text messages from Richard Vance. "He went from threatening to ruin me to begging me to come home and issue a joint statement saying it was a 'family misunderstanding that has been resolved privately.'"

"Are you going to?" I asked, watching his face closely.

Luca looked me straight in the eye. "Not a chance. I told his lawyer that the only statement I will ever participate in is one where Wendy Vance stands in front of a news camera, apologizes directly to your mother by name, and admits that she lied about everything."

Before I could answer, my father walked into the apartment. He held a thick legal folder under his arm, his expression stern and purposeful.

"The State’s Attorney’s office just called," my father announced, setting the folder on the table. "Because of the high-definition security camera footage we provided, along with the eyewitness statements from Caleb and the diner who recorded the video, they are officially filing misdemeanor simple assault and property destruction charges against Wendy Vance."

My mother gasped softly. "Sam... criminal charges?"

"She assaulted you in a public place, Phoebe," my father said firmly, resting his hands on her shoulders. "She didn't just throw wine; she attempted to use her social power to crush our family and humiliate our daughter. Actions have consequences. In Chicago, wealthy socialites don't get to treat people like dirt without facing the law."

"When is the arraignment?" I asked.

"Next Tuesday," my father said. "And Richard Vance’s legal team is currently spiraling because they know the judge assigned to the preliminary hearing is Judge Marcus Reyes—a man known for being notoriously tough on wealthy defendants who think they are above the law."