Chapter 8 - The Downfall
Vivian screamed—a sound of pure, unhinged fury—and lunged across the table to grab my phone.
Before she could touch it, the heavy doors of the private dining room swung open.
Two uniformed police officers walked in, accompanied by our attorney, Mr. Marcus Vance.
"Vivian Vance?" the lead officer asked sternly.
Vivian froze, her hands hovering mid-air, trembling hysterically. "What... what is the meaning of this?!"
"Vivian Vance, you are under arrest for domestic endangerment, destruction of essential medical supplies, and reckless endangerment of a minor," the officer announced, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.
"Richard! Do something! Tell them to stop!" Vivian screamed, bursting into real, ugly tears, backing away toward the wall. "I'm your wife! Leo, I'm your mother!"
My father slowly walked away from her, turning his back completely. "I don't know who you are anymore. Don't call me."
The officers stepped forward, forced her hands behind her back, and clicked the steel handcuffs onto her wrists.
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As she was being dragged out through the main dining room of Bistro Romano, dozens of patrons—who were already watching the viral Facebook live stream on their phones—stood up, taking videos and booing her as she was escorted out into the flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers.
Her carefully constructed empire of lies, saintly social media posts, and decades of silent abuse shattered into dust in a matter of minutes.
