PART 5 The Gourmet Market Shoplifting Scandal
Three days inside the luxury hotel suite felt like a breath of fresh air. Camila’s laughter echoed through the spacious rooms, entirely free from the oppressive, toxic cloud that had hung over our lives for years. Every morning, we ordered room service—fresh pancakes, warm milk, and sweet fruit—without anyone glaring at us or complaining about the cost.
Meanwhile, back in the real world, the shockwaves of my financial cutoff were hitting Daniel and his family like a tidal wave.
On the fourth morning, my phone buzzed incessantly while I was helping Camila put on her shoes. It was an unknown number, followed by a flurry of text messages from Daniel.
“Mariana, please pick up. This isn’t funny anymore.” “Mom’s blood pressure medication ran out. We had to sit in the public clinic for six hours because we couldn’t afford the private pharmacy. Have a heart!” “Valeria is crying her eyes out. We’re staying in a cheap, disgusting motel by the highway. Please, let’s talk. Let’s go to counseling. I’ll do whatever you want, just restore our accounts temporarily!”
I stared at the messages with absolute cold detachment. Not a single drop of sympathy stirred within me. When my daughter was freezing on a balcony with a stale piece of bread, they hadn't cared about her health, her comfort, or her tears. Now, after experiencing a mere 72 hours of the real world—staying in a cheap motel and waiting in a public clinic—they were begging for mercy.
I blocked the number instantly.
Later that afternoon, Alejandro called to give me an update on the legal front.
“The divorce papers have been formally served to Daniel through his new address at that highway motel,” Alejandro reported, a hint of amusement in his tone. “He tried to refuse service, but the process server dropped them right at his feet. Furthermore, we’ve filed a formal motion to seal our financial records and protect your corporate assets from any fraudulent claims he might try to file.”
“Has he retained a lawyer?” I asked.
“He tried to,” Alejandro chuckled. “He went to see Marcus & Vance, one of the top corporate litigation firms in the city, thinking he could contest your pre-nup. But when his credit card was declined for the initial consultation fee, and he realized he couldn't pay their five-thousand-peso retainer upfront, they threw him out of the office. He has no representation, no money, and no leverage.”
“Good,” I said firmly. “Let’s push forward with the expedited hearing next week. I want this marriage dissolved as quickly and cleanly as possible.”
“Consider it done, Mariana. By the way, have you heard anything from Carmen or Valeria?”
“Nothing. And I don’t expect to. They’re too proud to admit they’ve hit rock bottom.”
I was wrong. Pride is a fragile thing, but desperation is a powerful motivator. And Carmen and Valeria’s pride was about to shatter in the most public way imaginable.
That evening, while scrolling through my corporate tablet to check the weekly analytics of my marketing firm, a notification popped up from a popular local news and gossip portal on social media.
The headline caught my eye instantly: “DRAMA AT THE METROPOLITAN GOURMET MARKET: Former Socialite Caught Shoplifting Seafood and Fine Wine!”
My fingers froze over the screen. I tapped the article.
Attached to the report was a blurry cell phone video showing an older woman with dyed blonde hair—undeniably Carmen—struggling with a store security guard while trying to shove three expensive cans of imported caviar and a bottle of vintage wine into her designer handbag. Standing right beside her, screaming at the security guard and filming with her phone, was Valeria.
“Do you know who we are?!” Valeria shrieked in the video audio, her voice cracking with hysteria. “My brother is a prominent businessman! You can’t touch us! Let go of my mother right now!”
The security guard, completely unimpressed, yanked the handbag away and dumped the stolen luxury goods back onto the counter before calling the local police precinct.
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I stared at the screen, shaking my head in utter disbelief. Even after losing their home, their allowances, and their status, Carmen and Valeria hadn't tried to buy cheap bread or budget groceries. They had walked straight into an upscale market, tried to steal the exact same luxury seafood and wine they were accustomed to consuming on my dime, and got arrested for petty theft.
The mighty had truly fallen. And the best part? It was entirely self-inflicted.
