The living room of the estate had a fireplace large enough to roast a pig. A fire was roaring, casting dancing shadows on the stone hearth.
Elinor walked in, carrying the hard drives. Harper followed, holding the golf club like a weapon.
Beverly stormed in behind them. "Get out! I'm calling the police!"
"Do it," Harper challenged. "I'd love to file a report about illegal eviction and destruction of property."
Elinor set the drives down on a safe side table. She turned to the pile of clothes Beverly had had the servants dump in the foyer.
She picked up a Chanel tweed jacket. Julius had bought it for her after he forgot her birthday three years ago. It was beautiful. It was a lie.
She walked to the fireplace.
"What are you doing?" Beverly asked, her voice shrill.
Elinor tossed the jacket into the fire.
The flames licked the fabric. The wool blackened and curled. Smoke billowed out.
"That cost five thousand dollars!" Beverly screamed.
Elinor picked up a Hermès Birkin. Into the fire.
A limited edition silk scarf. Into the fire.
She was burning the costume. She was burning the character of "Mrs. Logan."
Harper leaned against the wall, watching with a dark smile. She kicked a Louboutin toward Elinor. "Don't forget the shoes."
Elinor looked at her left hand. The diamond was massive. Five carats. Flawless. Cold.
She slid it off her finger.
Beverly gasped. She lunged forward. "Don't you dare! That is a Logan heirloom!"
Elinor pulled her arm back and threw.
The ring sparked in the air, a tiny meteor. It landed in the heart of the fire, disappearing into the red-hot coals.
Beverly let out a wail as if she had been physically struck.
Elinor pulled out her phone. She typed.
Tell Julius the debt is not paid.
Tires crunched on gravel outside. A car door slammed.
Julius ran into the house. He stopped dead in the foyer. The smell of burning leather and expensive fabric filled the air.
He saw the fire. He saw Elinor's bare hand.
"Elinor!" he shouted. "Are you insane? You're burning the house down!"
Elinor didn't look at him. She grabbed the hard drives and walked toward the door.
Julius grabbed her arm. His grip was bruising. "You don't get to walk away after this. You're having a breakdown over a miscarriage? Grow up."
Harper stepped in. She shoved Julius hard in the chest.
"Let go of her," Harper snarled. "You abuser."
Julius froze. He blinked, confused. "What?"
"Two years ago," Harper said, her voice deadly quiet. "You were drunk. She said no. You pushed her. That's why she lost the first baby. And this time? Your precious Chanelle pushed her."
Julius went pale. His mouth opened and closed. He looked at Elinor, searching for a denial.
Elinor looked at him. Her eyes were empty windows in a condemned house.
She pulled her arm from his grip.
She walked out the door, Harper flanking her.
They got into the Range Rover. As they drove away, Elinor watched the estate shrink in the rearview mirror.
Julius stood in the doorway, staring at the fire consuming his wealth, looking small.
