Chapter 3 - The Lockout
At 7:00 PM, the security feed on my phone pinged. I was sitting safely in a plush hotel suite downtown, watching a live stream of the lobby of my luxury apartment building.
Preston swaggered through the revolving doors. He had clearly spent the entire day at his parents' house, letting his mother soothe his bruised ego, waiting for me to panic and beg for his forgiveness. He genuinely believed I was sitting upstairs in "our" apartment, crying over my ruined marriage, ready to apologize for the morning's chaos.
He walked up to the concierge desk, offering the doorman a tight, arrogant nod. "Evening, Thomas."
Thomas, a retired marine who knew exactly who signed his paychecks, did not smile back. He reached under the desk and lifted two large, black industrial trash bags, dropping them heavily onto the polished marble counter.
Preston frowned, looking at the bags. "What is this?"
"These are your belongings, Mr. Vance," Thomas said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. "Ms. Hayes requested that they be left for you here. Furthermore, your access to the building has been permanently revoked. Your key fob has been deactivated. You are no longer permitted on the premises."
"Excuse me?!" Preston sputtered, his face flushing with sudden, indignant rage. "That is my apartment! I am her husband! You can't lock me out!"
"I am simply following the legal directives of the property owner, sir," Thomas replied, stepping back and folding his arms across his broad chest. "If you attempt to bypass security, I am authorized to use physical force and contact the police."
Preston’s hand flew to his pocket. He pulled out his phone, dialing my number with furious, frantic speed. I watched him on the screen, pressing the phone to his ear, his chest heaving with panic as it went straight to a disconnected voicemail.
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He pulled out his wallet, slapping his platinum credit card onto the desk. "I need to book a room at a hotel. Right now."
He didn't realize the card was useless plastic. When he eventually tried to swipe it at a nearby hotel, it would decline violently. The realization of what was happening slowly crept across his face on the security feed. The arrogant, abusive husband was completely gone, replaced by a terrified, cornered fraud holding two garbage bags in a marble lobby.
