Chapter 9 - Samantha Realizes She Is Just A Temporary Luxury
Inside her high-rise West Hollywood apartment, Samantha paced frantically across the imported hardwood floors.
Her phone rang incessantly with calls from luxury brands canceling her sponsorships and VIP invitations.
News of my corporate firing and impending bankruptcy had spread like wildfire through the Los Angeles social scene.
The moment my wealth and status vanished, Samantha’s interest in me evaporated into thin air.
She packed her designer luggage, neatly stacking every expensive gift I had ever bought her near the front door.
When my key turned in the apartment lock that evening, she was already standing there with her coat on.
“Don’t bother coming any closer, Mark; I’m not playing nursemaid to a broke man,” Samantha said coldly.
“Samantha, please, we can figure this out together; I still love you,” I pleaded desperately.
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“Love doesn’t pay rent in Beverly Hills, darling; you chose your mess, now clean it up alone,” she snapped.
She brushed past me into the night, leaving me completely alone in an apartment I couldn’t even afford.
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