Chapter 4 - The Social Exile
By Friday, the rumor mill had done its job. The women from the church committee hadn't just gossiped; they had mobilized.
Valerie prided herself on her social standing. She was the head of the neighborhood HOA, the chair of the local charity drive, and a senior manager at her boutique marketing firm.
But when you try to lock a sweet, pie-baking widow in a nursing home to steal her house, the suburbs do not forgive you.
Valerie went to her Saturday morning spin class only to find the other women moving their bikes to the opposite side of the room. When she tried to speak at the HOA meeting, the committee voted to immediately suspend her pending an investigation into “moral turpitude.”
But the final blow came from her job. The boss she had invited to the birthday dinner—the one who had witnessed my eviction notice—called her into HR.
I received a frantic, screaming voicemail from Valerie on Monday afternoon.
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“You ruined my life!” she shrieked into the phone. “They put me on unpaid administrative leave! Nobody will talk to me! You vindictive, crazy old bat, I am going to destroy you!”
I saved the voicemail. Richard Vance added it to the growing file of evidence for our restraining order.
