When Cassie arrived at the luxury penthouse overlooking the city skyline, two burly security guards were already standing in the foyer holding industrial black trash bags. She moved through the master bedroom like a ghost, stuffing old denim jeans, cotton t-shirts from her college days, and a pair of scuffed sneakers into the plastic sacks.
She was forced to hand over her encrypted smartphone, the keys to her luxury SUV, and even a delicate gold locket that Wesley’s mother had given her as a family heirloom. The doorman, a kind older man named Donnie, lowered his head in shame when he saw her dragging three heavy trash bags through the marble lobby.
As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, a sudden autumn rain began to pelt the pavement, soaking through her thin jacket in seconds. She stood there without a vehicle, without a way to contact her friends, and with a check she couldn’t even process until the banks opened the next morning.