Chapter 16 - The Bottom of the Barrel
Six months after the infamous live broadcast arrest, Julian was sentenced to twelve years in federal prison. Evelyn, owing to her age and failing health, received five years of home confinement in a state-run low-income care facility, completely stripped of her pension and assets.
Preston had become a ghost.
Unemployable, bankrupt, and infamous worldwide as the textbook definition of a toxic ex-husband, he lived out of a rusted station wagon parked near the docks of Brooklyn. His nights were filled with cold rain and the suffocating stench of cheap gin.
One rainy evening, while digging through a dumpster behind a diner for discarded bread, he bumped into a woman pushing a squeaky shopping cart loaded with plastic bags.
She wore a stained, oversized coat, her hair matted, her face gaunt and worn.
Preston stopped. The woman froze.
It was Brielle.
The glamor, the luxury designer bags, the seductive charm—all gone. After being dumped by Julian and exposed by the doctors, Brielle’s illegitimate baby had been placed into state foster care when she failed to provide financial stability. She had descended into homelessness, consumed by addiction and regret.
They stood under the flickering streetlamp, two broken scavengers staring at each other in the pouring rain.
"Preston?" Brielle rasped, her voice dry and hollow.
Preston stared at her, a sudden, explosive rage surging through his veins. "You... you ruined my life!" he roared, taking a step toward her. "You took everything from me!"
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Brielle let out a loud, cackling laugh that turned into a hacking cough. "I took everything? You gave it away, you pathetic idiot! You threw away a queen for a shadow! Look at us! Look at what your pride bought you!"
Preston lunged forward, but his weak, malnourished body stumbled, crashing onto the wet asphalt. He lay in the filthy puddle, weeping uncontrollably as Brielle pushed her squeaky cart away into the dark alley, laughing hysterically into the night.
